


Harmonious Moon

by 97adrenochrome97



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Crossdressing, First Kiss, First Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hospitals, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Mental Instability, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Orphanage, Self-Harm, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/97adrenochrome97/pseuds/97adrenochrome97
Summary: Set in a Victorian-Aesthetic world, Harmonious Moon Orphanage is Ryan's home. Here, he wanders around in a medicated dream, kept in the dark by the doctors who are afraid of what he could become. In the constant haze, bitty memories of his friends resurface, friends who disappeared years ago. They wanted him to face a dark and difficult reality: Harmonious Moon may not be all that it seems.This story charts Ryan's internal struggle, when his friends return to shatter his "perfect" world.





	1. Prologue

Somebody once told Ryan that Harmonious Moon Orphanage wasn’t all what it seemed, and regardless of the fact that he was an orphan, he really ought to escape while he still could. She was a strange woman, the one who’d told him. He didn’t remember her name, because soon after the doubt was planted in his mind, she disappeared. He never found the time to ask where she’d gone, or what she meant, so he forgot about it. After all, this was his home.  
Where else could he go?  
Ryan’s name was Ryan Moon after the orphanage itself, and every other child he could think of was named as accordingly as him. It was supposed to make them feel like a family. Jon said it was a way of avoiding the truth. He said Harmonious Moon didn’t know any of their real names, because it was very likely their real families hadn’t given them any. Jon was always like that. Ryan could never understand why he was such a cynical child, but asking got him nowhere.  
‘We’re orphans, Ryan. Are we not supposed to be angry to the world? What have we got to be grateful for?’  
Young Optimistic Ryan had rattled off a long list of things Young Pessimistic Jon could be grateful for, ending with, ‘At least you aren’t dead.’ Jon had kicked him in the shins and told him to go bother someone else with his insufferable positivity. They were friends after that.  
Spencer wasn’t as gloomy as Jon was, but he still walked as if he were under a constant rain cloud. Ryan would do his best to cheer him up, because he knew Spencer wouldn’t beat him up for it. Sometimes it seemed to work, sometimes it made no difference. By the time they were all ten, Ryan had stopped trying. He let them be miserable. He couldn’t change it.  
There was a woman called Sally in charge of the dorm at the time, and one day he asked her about them.  
‘Am I really related to Spencer and Jon, Sally? They aren’t really like me at all.’  
Sally had very bright teeth and long blonde hair, so pale it was almost white. She wore it tied back so tightly it made her face look skeletal, and though she smiled kindly, Ryan still felt wary.  
‘We’re all family here, Ryan,’ she told him, in her bright, brisk voice. ‘Your real family love you very much, and would love to be with you, I’m sure. But for the moment you have us.’  
He had simply nodded, happy to let her put his mind at rest. He had repeated a half remembered version of her words back to Jon one day, wanting him to see that he should be happy here. Jon had snorted in disgust, blunt as always.  
‘Your parents don’t love you, Ryan. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. None of us would.’  
Ryan had started to resist everything Jon said. If he believed in something, he would argue until the bitter end, and he believed Harmonious Moon. He trusted them.  
‘Yes they do. Everyone I’ve ever asked has told me the same thing. That’s not just a coincidence. They wouldn’t just blatantly lie to us all the time.’  
They were only around twelve at the time, but Jon laughed bitterly like someone weary of the world. Someone who had heard it all before.  
‘You’re so pathetic, Ryan. I don’t think you do actually believe in any of it. You just want to contradict me.’  
Jon was mistaken. He wasn’t often wrong; maybe that’s why he refused to believe the way that Ryan defended the orphanage was genuine. If Ryan had been forced to choose between Jon and Spencer, and Harmonious Moon, he was never sure where his loyalties really lay – but fortunately he was still just a child, and it wasn’t a choice he ever expected to make.  
Due to the fact it was the only home he’d ever had, Ryan believed that the orphanage really was a good place, and he always just pinned Jon’s bitterness on the fact that none of the staff liked him that much. Jon was a rash and troublesome child, not averse to going out of his way to make things difficult for others. He seemed to enjoy the arguments he had with Ryan, and though Ryan could see this, he never let it go. He couldn’t help it. Spencer hated them for it, but on the rare occasions he intervened – he always took Jon’s side. It gave Ryan all the more reason to persist, even though Jon always won in the end. Sometimes he wondered why they were even friends.  
But Jon could be nice too. It wasn’t very often, but sometimes, after dark, he would accompany Ryan down the main hallway.  
There was a tradition. Sometimes a man with a camera would show up at the front door and photograph all the new additions to the family. Every child who had ever been at Harmonious Moon had their face stuck on those walls, and any time Ryan wanted to go to or from their room, he had to pass by all the silent eyes in the faded faces, watching him from every side. He would stare at the floor, and sometimes he would run. Jon would laugh at him, but when they walked together he would ruffle Ryan’s hair and tell him to stop being so stupid. Then Ryan would look, and they would pick out the faces they knew together.  
Jon was scowling darkly at the camera, hating everyone who walked past. Spencer was pinned to his left, smiling serenely, though at a close look he didn’t seem entirely happy. Ryan was next to him, not looking at the photographer at all, but off, at the child on his right. At a glance it was a girl. Grinning manically, dark bobbed hair covering her eyes. That was Brendon.  
The building was strictly divided into wings, one for the boys, one for the girls. During the day they would all wander throughout the house as they pleased, and Ryan would pass Brendon in the hallways and notice the way she watched him and his friends wistfully, mostly ignored by the other girls. They were close in ages, but she was skinnier than he was, smaller, paler.  
Ryan never questioned it, until one night, when they bumped into each other in the hallway.  
‘What are you doing this side? You’re a girl,’ Ryan had said. It probably sounded a bit stupid, but he was a compulsive rule follower and they weren’t usually allowed mixing that late.  
Brendon had rolled his eyes a bit. ‘I’m not a girl actually, and so what if I was?’  
Ryan shrugged. ‘The girls don’t usually come this far, that’s all.’  
‘Like I said, I’m not a girl.’  
It was the first time Ryan realised that perhaps Harmonious Moon did have a few secrets. He looked Brendon up and down in her little girl dresses, her long dark hair.  
‘You look like a girl.’  
Brendon pulled a face at the floor. Then he glanced back up at Ryan. ‘Do you want proof?’  
‘No, it’s okay, I believe you,’ Ryan said quickly, and Brendon grinned.  
‘Friends?’ he said.  
‘Friends,’ Ryan repeated. He was so puzzled by the realisation that he confronted Sally the following morning, bemused, almost a little betrayed. Sally soon corrected that.  
With a tone as bright as her teeth, she told him that due to Brendon’s general size he was better off with the girls, who didn’t fight so much. She assured him they had done it before on numerous occasions, and they were always moved over to the correct wing eventually. Ryan walked away from the question reassured, content with her answer. For a while, he and Brendon remained friends selectively. Then one day Jon caught them talking in the hall and demanded to know what was going on.  
‘This is my friend Brendon,’ Ryan had said, and Jon pulled a face.  
‘Friend?’ he said scornfully. Ryan decided not to care. Jon was probably just jealous.  
‘Yes. Friend.’  
‘So, what are you doing hanging out with Ryan, little girl?’ Jon asked, still doubtful. Brendon had eventually grown up to almost match him height wise, but in that hallway at that time, Jon seemed to tower over him.  
Brendon smiled, unfazed. ‘Firstly, I’m not a girl. Secondly, what’s it to you?’  
Ryan would never have talked to Jon like that. That was probably why he was treated the way he was. Brendon instantly earned respect for talking back, and in time became less and less Ryan’s friend, and more and more a friend of the group. An irritated, jealous part of Ryan started to dislike them for it. It gave him and Jon a lot more to argue about, and what made it worse was that Brendon always seemed to take Jon’s side. Just like Spencer did.  
One argument about Brendon in particular took place when Jon finally forced Ryan into telling him why Brendon was seen as a girl for so long. He had asked Brendon himself, but Brendon just shrugged and said he didn’t know. Ryan did his best to make it sound as justified as Sally had, but Jon was relentlessly unforgiving.  
‘It was a kindness,’ Ryan said. ‘They were protecting him, keeping with the girls.’  
‘Protecting him?’ Jon had scoffed. ‘It’s not as if they were just letting him sleep over there. Ryan, if you hadn’t found out, they might have forced him to pretend to be a girl forever. That’s just the disturbed kind of thing I would expect from this place.’  
‘You always have something to complain about, don’t you?’ Ryan said. Whenever Jon said anything about the orphanage he always felt personally offended, as if it were his to defend. ‘Nothing’s ever good enough for you, is it?’  
They must have been at least fourteen when this conversation took place. Brendon had since been moved over to the correct wing, to be officially relabelled as one of the boys. By then Jon had a different way of acting when Ryan said things of this nature. He wouldn’t get angry; he would just smile benignly, and tell Ryan what he wanted to hear.  
‘Alright then, Ryan, if you say so.’  
Ryan clenched his fists. Sometimes he wanted Jon to argue. Sometimes he wanted a fight. Sometimes he hated Jon so much he felt he could have killed him. Often the only thing that stopped him was the thought of Harmonious Moon itself. They had a good reputation. They wouldn’t have let a couple of childish adolescents mar their perfect picture of Harmony. So, Ryan tried to keep the peace for them.  
Jon hated the name as well. That was another of his continuous criticisms.  
‘Like it’s the very essence of Harmony and Moonlight,’ he said once, rolling his Rs mockingly. ‘It’s ridiculous.’  
‘What does that mean?’ Ryan demanded, jumping to the defensive as always. Jon often just rolled his eyes, so Ryan would try and provoke him.  
‘You’re the only one who takes away from the Harmony aspect, Jon.’  
‘Yes. At least someone’s doing it,’ Jon replied. He didn’t mind being the trouble maker. So Ryan had to resort to other tactics in order to invoke a reaction, even though he didn’t like it when Jon hit him back. Sometimes he couldn’t help playing the victim.  
So they would fight, they would argue. Ryan sometimes felt they spent more time as enemies than friends. But during the rare moments of contentment, it seemed worth having his friends around. It was nice to know sometimes people liked him out of more than just pity. He would have sacrificed a lot for them, and he always thought they would do the same for him.  
Then one night things all changed.  
There was a clear sky that night; stars out, moon almost full, waiting for someone to take advantage of them. It was early evening when Jon told Ryan the plan.  
‘It’s tonight, Ryan. We’re leaving tonight. Are you coming with us or not?’  
‘Of course,’ Ryan agreed without a thought. Time had passed. He had grown to believe some of the things Jon told him and started to realise that the orphanage may not be what it seemed. They were all sixteen; he was old enough to know what was best for them. ‘I want to stay with you. I’m not being left here alone.’  
Jon smiled. ‘I’m so glad.’ It sounded like he meant it.  
Back then the windows could be opened from the inside, without too much of a struggle. They weren’t ever locked, because the children were entitled to fresh air if they wanted it. No one ever worried about them escaping because they were almost on the top floor. No child could possibly work out how to crawl along the window ledge, and then drop down onto the roof. It wasn’t that easy to get down to the guttering, and no one was light and agile enough to climb down the drainpipe, surely.  
They weren’t really children anymore at that time. And everyone underestimated how much Jon hated it there. Ryan thought he hated it as well. But he could be stupid sometimes. And he made a mistake.  
He had been making his way to back to their room, with an obviously troubled expression. He met Head of the House Charlotte coming the opposite way, and she stopped him. Her hair was a dark honey blonde and she had honest brown eyes. She smiled at him like they always did. Ryan half wondered what she was doing walking the corridors at this time of night; he didn’t see her often. It was almost as if she knew.  
‘You look very anxious tonight, Ryan. You can tell me what’s bothering you, can’t you?’  
Ryan was a bad liar, and what’s more he didn’t really want to make the decision on his own. He didn’t want it to be his choice.  
‘Charlotte, I have to ask something. I know when we’re young we’re told our parents love us, but that’s just for comfort isn’t it? They don’t really want us, do they?’  
She looked shocked. ‘Ryan, of course they do. We always tell you the truth. Sometimes we stretch it a little for the children, but you’re sixteen now. You have to believe me.’  
He didn’t break yet. There was another question. ‘But even if they love us, we’re still here. They won’t be coming to see us, will they? I know they won’t.’  
He was looking for reassurance of something real, but they always misunderstood. Charlotte looked him dead in the eye, smiling like she thought he wasn’t serious.  
‘Don’t be silly, Ryan,’ she said. There was a curt edge to her voice. ‘I can’t speak for everyone, but you’re different. You’re special. If you tell yourself they won’t come back for you, then they won’t. It’s all down to the way you look at things.’  
For the first time Ryan had felt seriously torn between two places. If what she was saying was true, then if he left he would always be an orphan. And Jon was right. What did he have to be happy about? He wasn’t dead, but he was alone. Parent-less. That was almost as bad.  
‘Thank you,’ he said, uncertain smile. ‘And… and you mean it?’  
She had smiled again. ‘Ryan, it’s my job to tell the truth.’  
Ryan nodded unhappily. Of course, there had always been a part of him that wanted to stay. But he knew he would never be able to explain it to his friends, to Jon especially. It was pointless. He wasn’t happy about watching them go, but if they didn’t understand him then what could he do? Nothing. It was out of his hands.  
When the other three got up, well into the night, and Jon took all the skin off his knuckles wrestling with the stiff window bolt, Ryan just sat crossed legged on his bed, watching them. A sick feeling had settled in his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to this.  
‘Right. We’re ready,’ Jon said eventually, in a breathless whisper. Never had he looked so alive. ‘Let’s get out of here.’  
Brendon and Spencer were already up. They were all looking at Ryan now.  
‘Ryan? Ready?’  
Ryan shook his head with so much resignation. ‘I’m staying here.’  
Spencer did a double take, Brendon blinked and Jon frowned. ‘What?’  
‘I’m staying here,’ Ryan repeated. He swallowed. ‘I have to.’  
Jon shook his head slowly. ‘Why?’  
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Ryan said unwisely. Jon walked right up to him, pushing his head up so their eyes met. He gritted his teeth.  
‘I’ll go without you,’ he said. ‘I mean it. I’ll go without all of you if I have to.’  
Ryan forced himself to shrug. ‘Go then,’ he replied. ‘I’m staying.’  
Spencer took a cautious step towards the window as Jon backed away. They would always be on the same side. Part of the reason Ryan had started talking to Brendon was so he had someone to back him up at times like this. But Brendon wasn’t his friend anymore. He was their friend. He wasn’t staying either.  
Ryan folded his arms, and bit his lip to stop himself saying all the things he wanted to. ‘Go on, all of you. I won’t change my mind.’  
It stung to have them all abandon him. It stung to realize that this was the first time they’d ever done what he’d told them to. They were alright with listening to him when he was telling them to do what they’d probably always wanted. He was better off without them. He didn’t have to feel regretful because he had made the right choice. One day soon he’d get his fairy-tale ending, whereas they would probably die on the streets. It didn’t matter that he was alone now because he wouldn’t be alone forever.  
He waited a long time before getting up to close the window. He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t follow them after all. It was too late. He was here now. Safe at Harmonious Moon.  
‘Am I dreaming?’ he said aloud, as he retreated back to bed. There was no answer. What was he expecting? He lightly pinched his own arm, just to make sure. It was real alright. He’d made his choice. Pity.  
Five years later, he’s still waiting to wake up.


	2. Dreamland

_Five Years Later,_  
The branches sway in the gentle breeze overhead, shading him from the heat and dappling the sunlight. The air smells subtly sweet, the faded warmth of an afternoon spent lying in the grass. The cool blades poke at the back of his neck every time he moves; a reminder of what’s real. Ryan’s eyelids flutter heavily, content, half asleep. His limbs weigh him down, outstretched around him, an anchor to the ground, to reality. His mind wanders limitlessly, head in the clouds, somewhere between dreams and imagination. The sun blinks through the browning leaves above, making him squint and close his eyes again. The light continues to flicker through his eyelids, letting him know he’s still here. If he just opens his eyes properly he can escape the dream.  
It felt like a dream. He feels like he’s dreaming most of the time. Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate between the dreaming and waking world.  
Today is different. That was five years ago, and he knows it’s not real because he’s alone. Then he’s suddenly awake, stiffly propping himself up, shaking his heavy head to rid himself of the past. No, he’s not alone.  
‘Melissa?’  
The sun is still out, but suddenly he’s cold, rubbing his tingling arms where the grass has started to irritate the needle marks. Awake now, but it still takes a second to familiarize himself with their current surroundings. Melissa doesn’t look up until he calls her again.  
‘Melissa?’  
She meets his eyes this time, closing her notebook and stretching her mouth into an unnaturally friendly smile. That’s one of those things he’s always found hard to understand about the Harmonious Moon staff. They always talk, they smile like they really care, but her eyes are glassy and distracted. He can tell she’s not really listening even though there are only a few paces between them.  
‘What is it, Ryan?’ Practised tone: sympathetic, understanding.  
Ryan doesn’t really know what it is himself yet, so it takes a minute to answer. Her smile becomes a bit drawn out and her eyelids flicker as she tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, glancing listlessly down at her hands again.  
‘Do you remember those children…’ he starts eventually. Words stopped coming naturally a while ago. He struggles, shaking his head.  
‘They escaped…’ he continues, pauses. They don’t like him to use the word “escape”. It makes it sound like they would have something to escape from.  
‘They ran away… I remember… a while ago…’  
Melissa looks distinctly uninterested but she nods and smiles trivially for him. ‘Before my time I’m afraid, Ryan, but I’ve been told.’  
He twitches uncertainly and she tilts her head. ‘What are you afraid of, Ryan? It was five years ago.’  
She can read him like a book, they all can. He doesn’t know what he’s afraid of, so he just shrugs.  
‘Nothing… it’s just… sometimes I wonder if I should have gone with them,’ he says, wondering if he’s making a mistake in telling her. It’s not the sort of thing the staff like hearing, but he’s been told he can tell them anything, on numerous occasions.  
‘Always talk to us, Ryan. Don’t keep things to yourself. We’re on the same side.’ He had listened, wondering if they had some nasty way of extracting any information he did happen to withhold. They smile and they reassure, whatever the question, but he didn’t ask that one. And he didn’t disobey, just in case.  
Melissa isn’t listening. She nods, and then shakes her head, frowning. It takes her a few seconds to process his words.  
‘Hmm… well, that would have been your last chance certainly,’ she says evenly, turning to glance in the direction of the building in the distance. Ryan follows her gaze. The Harmonious Moon grounds stretch on for at least a mile all around them, and even though they can’t see the barred windows they both know they’re there.  
Melissa isn’t really like the other staff. Sometimes, just sometimes she lets the act slip. Her tone goes flat and her eyes go blank. Ryan observes the change in expression then asks her a more personal question.  
‘Do you like it here, Melissa?’  
She blinks, looking wrong-footed; then her face changes back into the mask of false empathy they all wear. At least it’s familiar.  
‘Of course I do, Ryan.’  
He smiles wryly. ‘Do you like me?’  
She blinks again, and then laughs uncertainly. ‘Yes. What a thing to ask! We all like you here, Ryan. You’re very special.’  
That’s what they always say. It’s a clever decoy, a way of evading any question. He knows they almost definitely don’t mean it, but he still smiles.  
‘I know.’  
‘Good,’ she says, but there’s still an uncertain edge to her voice. Melissa’s been working here for just under a year, and sometimes she doesn’t know exactly what to say to him. He finds himself using it to his advantage, saying things he wouldn’t normally, watching her struggle to say the right thing back.  
‘Do you sometimes wish you weren’t here looking after me?’ he asks and this time she fails to give him the correct answer.  
‘I don’t think that’s the sort of question you’re supposed to ask me, Ryan,’ she replies briskly and then stands up. ‘Come on. I think you should talk to a doctor… or a therapist. I’m not the one for this job.’  
There’s always someone else to be handed over to. He nods benignly and then takes her hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet. He’s come to realise there’s always a doctor at the other end. There’s always something wrong with him, something they can’t answer.  
*  
Up above them, through the tall window on the third floor, Nurse Sally stands, arms folded, watching the two distant figures make their way across the expanse of grass. Dr Skinner stands by her side, rubbing his hands together uneasily.  
‘That boy’s insane…’ he mutters and Sally frowns. Even though they’ve been close colleagues for years, Dr Skinner’s voice still makes her skin crawl.  
‘He’s not insane,’ she contradicts. ‘He may be a little mentally unstable, but a lot of the children are. They’re orphans; it goes with the territory. You should know that by now.’  
‘I don’t trust him one little bit,’ Dr Skinner replies, hitching his glasses up further and shaking his head. ‘One day we’re going to lose that girl to him, I just know it.’  
Sally sniffs distastefully. ‘Melissa is perfectly capable of handling him. I appreciate your professional opinion, Doctor. Your personal reservations are none of my concern.’  
She turns on her heel to leave, but his needy voice come crawling back to her. ‘You don’t trust him either…’  
She stops then. Half smiles. ‘Let’s just see how things go, Dr Skinner. There’s no need to go jumping to conclusions.’  
‘Yes, of course. You’re right as always,’ he says in reply, and then comes away from the window. ‘Forgive me.’  
Sally doesn’t like admitting that she agrees with him. She just nods, and they both leave together, silent and contemplative.  
*  
Ryan’s therapist is called Nancy Harper. She has a pale thin face, and thin dark hair that barely brushes her thin shoulders. Tall and straight, she sits in her armchair, shrouded in layers of muted greys and browns. Her green, catlike eyes stand out in the faded room, always following his every move, reading his body language. Perhaps she’s reading his mind too, he would never ask. She would never tell.  
He’s never been entirely sure if she’s only there for him or not, but it’s certainly likely, seeing as there are so many others only there for his personal use. He used to find talking to her unnerving, disconcerted by the sharp eyes and the soft voice, but it doesn’t really affect him anymore. He hopes she finds whatever she’s looking for in his instinctive, careless words, because he never feels any different when her door closes behind him every day.  
He’s content underneath, he knows he is. They need him, maybe as much as he needs them. They tell him again and again, he’s helping them.  
‘You’re doing us a huge favour sticking around here, Ryan. You’re very special.’  
He’s heard the same thing so many times. Perhaps they do mean it, just a little bit. Perhaps he is special.  
Nancy gives him a slight nod, a smile. Nurse Sally gently steers him into the counselling room, leaving the door ajar. Sally’s the only one of them that seems to have little time for smiling. It makes her different. Sometimes when he’s stuck between dreams and reality, and all the doctors in their white coats morph into one shiny professional smile, Sally stands out, gives him something to remember.  
‘Good morning, Ryan. How are you today?’ Nancy asks mildly, though he knows she’s just checking up on him already. He has long started to find smiling back tiring; the uncertain instinctive reassurance makes his face ache. But he does it anyway, just to keep up appearances.  
‘Same as yesterday, Nancy,’ he says. And the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that.  
Nancy briefly nods again, but her eyes are already meeting Sally’s behind his back. They confer silently, in some secret code of nodding and lip reading. The exchange is short, and Ryan knows better than to ask anymore.  
‘Sit yourself down, Ryan,’ Nancy gently commands as soon as Sally has closed the door on them. ‘What would you like to talk about?’  
Ryan just shrugs and shakes his head. He doesn’t really know what this is about. They always get to the bottom of something by the end, but he can’t begin if he doesn’t know how to.  
‘Melissa says you were asking funny questions,’ Nancy says, tilting her head slightly. She sounds concerned. He shrugs.  
‘I suppose I was.’  
‘She says you mentioned those children who ran away. What made you think about them, Ryan?’ she presses, and there’s firmness there behind the curiosity. He almost smiles.  
‘Yes, I did. I had a dream about them.’  
‘What happened in the dream?’  
Ryan doesn’t know what she’s expecting to hear. When has dream logic ever meant anything to them? He ignores his dreams now, but he still may as well tell her the truth. She waits patiently, while he frowns, trying to remember.  
‘It was about that night they left. They wanted me to go with them. Jon said…’  
‘Ryan,’ she warns calmly, and he stops, losing his thread. He’s made a mistake; they aren’t happy about him using the real names anymore. He’s given up asking why.  
‘Patient J said that everyone was lying to us. And that I should go with them because my parents weren’t going to come for me. Patient S agreed with him. So did Patient B,’ Ryan says and then he frowns again. ‘They were angry with me… but they still wanted me to go with them.’  
Nancy’s face doesn’t change, and she doesn’t blink either. ‘But you wanted to stay, Ryan. You always wanted to stay, didn’t you?’  
It sounds like a trick question, but Ryan knows there’s only one answer so he can’t get it wrong. Even so he hesitates.  
‘Of course I did. And even if my family don’t come and get me, I’m choosing to stay here. Because I’m helping you.’  
He fails to keep the scripted tone from his voice, but Nancy doesn’t seem to notice. She nods and finally smiles properly.  
‘That’s right, Ryan. The dream didn’t mean anything, did it? It was just a dream.’  
‘It was just a dream,’ he repeats. That’s what she wants him to say.  
*  
Ryan never thought there was anything wrong with him, but as soon as the tests started he was diagnosed with DSS, which made him realise some things were in fact, out of his control. It was the start of a long realisation, a string of discoveries, cryptic answers he was never going to understand. He should listen to them, they said. The doctors knew best.  
That was at least two years ago, and he still doesn’t actually know what DSS is, but every time he asks they evade the question.  
‘It’s more of a mental state, Ryan. It’s nothing to worry about.’  
‘Look on the bright side, you’re helping us find a cure if you stay as our test subject.’  
‘It doesn’t matter that you don’t know what it is. Just be glad we do, yes?’  
‘Not many people know about it. But at least that makes you special. You’re very special, Ryan. Don’t ever forget that.’  
It’s hard to forget something when he hears it so often, though he does frequently forget other things. Sometimes he wakes up from a dream and he can’t even remember who he is. But that’s only the bad days. The effect treatment has over him varies greatly from day to day, mainly ending up a bit drowsy and somehow out of synch with himself. Sometimes he starts hallucinating things, or his dreams become so vivid they seep into reality and he can’t separate the two at all. But with how frequent the derealisation experience is becoming, he’s stopped caring. Sometimes he sleeps for days in a row and sometimes he can’t sleep at all, but none of it affects him anymore. It’s just the ebb and flow of time, and after all, he’s helping them. If it’s for the greater good, like they say, then so be it. He resigned himself to the fate of constant sleepwalking a long time ago.  
Head of the orphanage Charlotte is the one in charge of his medication. She’s older now, wiser, and has less time to be nice to him, but he doesn’t really mind. She’s a familiar face, a familiar smile. Sally is the contrast, brisk and efficient, but she no longer scares him like she used to. Sometimes in the white room, Dr Skinner, with his darting hands and his nasal mutterings, Ryan begins to feel on edge, though he has no reason to. Dr Vincent Skinner is a trained professional just like all the others, taught to smile and nod on cue. Maybe it’s just because the disliking it mutual. But there’s just something unnervingly snakelike about him. He’s probably more scared of Ryan than Ryan is of him. But neither of them take any chances in their adversary’s company.  
‘Strange dreams now, Ryan?’ Charlotte confirms, as soon as he steps through the familiar door, bright light, white walls. He squints, noting the concern in her voice. He nods.  
‘You could say that.’  
‘Hardly surprising,’ she states calmly, a hand on his shoulder. He lets her look searchingly into his eyes, as if trying to see right through into his head. He could tell her that the dreams started as an after effect of treatment, and save them all the trouble. But he doesn’t.  
Instead, he pushes this thought to the corner of his mind and doesn’t say anything.  
*  
Ryan thinks he’s outside. It’s a clear starry night, and there’s a cold wind. He knows he shouldn’t be out here on his own, but he isn’t back walking back towards the main building. He can see the gate up ahead of him, and that’s where he wants to go even though he doesn’t have a key. The stone walls that border the edges of the Harmonious Moon grounds aren’t completely impossible to climb – a web of vines decorates the bricks by the gate. There’s sharp, twisted wire lining the top, which has always been a hindrance, but now it’s been cut where he would be climbing.  
But he isn’t going to start climbing.  
‘Ryan?’  
He doesn’t want to.  
‘Ryan, can you hear me?’  
And what’s more he isn’t even outside.  
‘Ryan, wake up.’  
‘I’m awake,’ he tiredly reassures them, mouth responding before his eyes open. Sally smiles briefly above him, as a sign of recognition perhaps. She wants him to do the same, let her know he can still understand them. Dr Skinner stands a few steps back, watching them both with a baleful eye. Ryan blinks, disconcerted by the sudden harsh inside lighting.  
‘Where am I?’ he asks slowly, and Sally hesitates, giving Dr Skinner a look before answering.  
‘You’re here with us, Ryan. At Harmonious Moon. Safe.’  
Safe, he thinks. That’s one word to use.  
‘We’re done here, Ryan. You can go back to your room now,’ Dr Skinner says distrustfully. Sally pulls him smoothly to his feet, waiting a moment for his vision to stop spinning.  
‘What’s happening to me?’  
Sally smooths her hair back, tone bright and concise.  
‘Nothing,’ she says, a little quickly. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary, don’t worry. Get some sleep. Do as the doctors say, and go back to your room.’  
‘Okay,’ he nods slightly, eyes closing without consent. Melissa is waiting outside the door to take his arm and lead him away. She doesn’t say anything until they’re right outside his room.  
‘Goodnight, Ryan.’  
He doesn’t reply immediately, bits of memory coming and going. He struggles.  
‘Did… Did you tell them what I was saying to you?’ he asks, hesitant. She blinks for a moment and then smiles.  
‘No more questions tonight, Ryan. Go to sleep.’  
‘Okay,’ he agrees meekly, again. He was instructed to do as he’s told. Do as the doctors say, always. There’s no one else to listen to after all. It’s not as if they take sides, but in doubting them, he’s on his own. So don’t doubt, they would say. He tells himself he doesn’t.  
*  
Its dark outside and there’s seven people crammed inside Charlotte’s office, a rare occurrence on any account. There is a semi-circle of chairs, completed by the old couch, worn and faded from years of use. This arrangement seats most of them: Charlotte herself, Nurse Sally, Dr Skinner, Therapist Nancy and Reginald Plough the Doorman. Melissa sits atop the old piano stool, one leg crossed over the other, looking distinctly uninterested.  
There was an odd break of silence in the conversation, which has been lengthening for some time. Everyone is occupied with their own thoughts, and the stillness is only broken by Reginald climbing slowly to his feet.  
‘Better get back to work then,’ he says.  
‘You really shouldn’t smoke in my office,’ Charlotte tell him, without looking up. Her eyes are staring blankly into the distance.  
‘Whatever you say then, Miss Charlotte,’ Reginald replies, but they all know it’s a bit late in the day to start complaining. She would have said earlier if she really cared.  
‘You seem rather preoccupied tonight, Charlotte,’ Therapist Nancy points out, and Charlotte frowns.  
‘I’m thinking,’ she says. ‘It’s a simple way of avoiding conversation.’  
‘She won’t tell you what she’s thinking about, mind,’ Reginald adds. ‘I’ve tried that before in the past – ‘  
‘Reggie,’ Nurse Sally cuts in, before he can finish. She smiles trivially. ‘Hadn’t you better be off now?’  
‘Don’t use that tone, Sally, it isn’t becoming at all,’ Charlotte sighs. Her eyes flicker over to Reginald, her next words directed at him. ‘I was thinking about Ryan, as a matter of fact.’  
Reginald makes a familiar tutting sound. ‘Best be on my way then. We’ll be here all night.’  
‘Yes, you keep saying,’ Sally mutters and Nancy gives her a tired look.  
‘Quiet, Sal. No need to grace us with pessimism. Not tonight.’  
‘You’re always thinking about Ryan,’ Melissa sighs, tossing her hair. ‘Yet you never tell me why. What’s he ever done to deserve all this?’  
‘It’s nothing,’ Charlotte says. She smiles. ‘He’s just… it’s hard to say.’  
‘Tell me something, Melissa, have you heard us mention Disaloneous?’ Sally asks briskly, a hint of sarcasm. When Melissa nods eagerly, she continues.  
‘Then you have your answer. That’s why we’re so concerned.’  
‘We don’t know if he’ll turn out like that though,’ Nancy reminds her. Melissa shakes her head, disappointed.  
‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ she says. ‘Of course I’ve heard you mention Disaloneous, and I know something about the tragedy – but not all of it. Not enough to understand your concern. Let me know, please, I won’t tell anyone.’  
Sally’s smile is sickly. And her tone is bitter.  
‘I don’t think you really want to know, Melissa,’ she says. ‘Not when you’re with Ryan so much of the time.’  
‘Don’t say such things, you’ll frighten the poor girl,’ Nancy says firmly. She looks at Melissa. ‘It’s a long and complicated story, Melissa, nothing you should worry about tonight.’  
Here, Dr Skinner sees a window of opportunity, and he starts up again.  
‘Neither of them deserved the help this boy’s getting, if you ask me…’ he mutters, but the rest of them reprimand him sharply.  
‘That’s enough, Vincent.’  
Dr Skinner raises his eyebrows and starts rubbing his hands together again. ‘Not my place, I apologise.’  
‘Don’t listen to him, Melissa,’ Nancy says. ‘Besides, you’re in a safer position than any of us. Ryan loves you.’  
Melissa herself looks up sharply. ‘He loves me? But I can’t stand the boy, you have to be joking!’  
‘Don’t overreact, Melissa, he’s fond of us all,’ Sally snaps. Love is such a strong word, and not one she uses often. Folding her arms, she adds, ‘Though there’s always the exception.’  
‘I wouldn’t want him to like me even if I did have some compassion for the boy,’ Dr Skinner counters, shuddering somewhat. ‘I don’t trust him at all.’  
‘I feel like we’re all jumping to a lot of conclusions here,’ Nancy says briskly, and she stands up. ‘I’m going to bed.’  
‘Goodnight Nancy,’ Charlotte replies without looking. Her eyes are directed somewhere else. ‘Melissa, go and check on Ryan.’  
‘If I must,’ Melissa mutters, reluctantly getting to her feet as well. ‘Goodnight.’  
‘Goodnight Melissa,’ Sally says. She smiles at Nancy with a little more feeling. ‘Goodnight, Nancy.’  
Charlotte watches them for a moment, then speaks up. ‘Vincent, you may take your leave as well. Sally and I have some things to discuss. Go straight to your rooms all of you, I do not wish for the children to be disturbed again. The same goes for you, Melissa, once you’ve checked on Ryan.’  
They all listen, and then take their leave. Departing in a swift and orderly fashion. Once the door closes, there are a few moments of silence.  
‘We shouldn’t have brought up Disaloneous in such a casual way…’ Charlotte says and Sally’s frown darkens. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to.


	3. The Midnight Hour

Ryan wakes with a start, from a dream, though he can’t remember what about. It’s still dark outside, so it can’t be near morning, and yet Melissa is standing by his bed, an unusually friendly smile on her face.  
‘It’s time to get up, Ryan,’ she says, and her voice sounds odd. Different somehow. He blinks and slowly sits upright.  
‘Why?’  
‘It’s part of your treatment, come on,’ she replies, soft but persuasive, the way they all talk to him. It’s a clever way of making him think he has a choice, even though it’s obviously a command. But if it’s part of his treatment, then the rule follows: Always listen the doctors. It’s their job to tell the truth.  
‘Alright…’ he reluctantly agrees, allowing her to take his hand in assistance.   
He feels momentarily lost when he stands up, disorientated by the darkness, and he turns; eyes finding the window in an attempt to get his bearings back. It’s the only light source, meaning most of the room is cast in shadow. Melissa is looking toward the door, her face too dimly lit to make out her expression. It’s odd, but he could have sworn her hand felt different, maybe not as soft as usual. Their fingers had only brushed for a moment though, so he can’t be sure.  
‘Come on, this way,’ she says, beckoning with a wave of her arm as he turns away from the window. Ryan has had his own room for a number of years now, but she still keeps her voice low like she’s afraid of waking someone. Maybe it’s him. Maybe this is a dream.  
‘Where are you taking me, Melissa?’ he asks her, as they slip out the door. She quickly shushes him.   
‘Quiet Ryan,’ she hisses, only adding to his confusion. Her voice sounds sharp and unfamiliar. Maybe it’s just because he isn’t used to people snapping at him, but there’s something about her that isn’t quite right.  
‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, and she shakes her head.   
‘It doesn’t matter. Just don’t wake the other children, alright?’  
‘Alright,’ he agrees meekly, and she nods once then beckons again, a little more urgently this time.  
Ryan’s head is swimming from doubt and general tiredness, making him clumsy and less inclined to be quiet. Melissa is evidently finding his constant stumbling irritating, but she manages to bite her tongue. He would usually ask her what’s wrong, whether she wanted him to be quiet or not, because he’s not in the habit of keeping his thoughts to himself. But he isn’t asking her now, because he’s afraid she’ll snap at him again.   
Ryan’s become accustomed to being treated in a certain way, and if someone steps out of line like this, it unnerves him. So he doesn’t question it; doesn’t say anything. Sometimes when they’re outside together, and he’s lying in the shade of the trees, he finds himself just watching her. Melissa sits usually, looking at her hands, looking at her notebook, or over at the orphanage. When she’s really bored, she plays with her hair. That’s something he’s always noticed: her hair. Normal Melissa’s hair is always loose, thick, dark curls falling around her face, and down her back. The Melissa walking ahead of him now has tied her dark hair up, a few short wispy strands springing over her forehead. It’s not the same as usual.  
They both walk in silence down the length of the corridor, closely observed by the children, watching them from every picture they pass. The fuzzy photographs line all of one wall, and when Ryan was younger he used to run past them, unnerved by the still black and white eyes. He’s not scared anymore, but he still tries not to look at them. Maybe he’s afraid they’ll make him remember something he regrets again. Like the dream did. He looks at his feet most of the way, until he can see the moonlight streaming onto the polished floor from the window. Then he looks up again, just in time to catch a glimpse of Melissa’s face illuminated in the glow.  
It’s not normal Melissa. It’s not even a new, harsher version of Melissa. It isn’t Melissa at all.  
Ryan abruptly stops, and though this strange girl isn’t looking at him she must sense something because she looks round.  
‘Why have you stopped?’   
He takes a step back, eyeing her warily. He suspected something all along, but he thought it was just his drugged mind playing tricks on him.  
‘You’re not Melissa…’ he says slowly, and her smile is strained, bored of the subject already.  
‘I never claimed that I was this Melissa. I just thought it would be easier not to explain. She’s been detained; I’m in charge now.’  
He blinks uncertainly. It never occurred to him to ask, he supposes. He just assumed. He doesn’t know everyone here, and she’s dressed in uniform after all. The shapeless navy dress reaches her knees, the hem hiding where her stockings end. Even in the light it’s difficult to tell how long her dark hair is, because of course, it’s scrunched into a knot at the back.  
‘What’s your name?’ he asks. She glances apprehensively over her shoulder, like she’s afraid someone’s sneaking up on them. It wouldn’t do to get caught by Charlotte this late at night. They aren’t really supposed to leave their rooms after dark. But if she’s under doctor’s orders then there shouldn’t be a problem.  
‘It’s Carolyn,’ she says, when she looks back round at him, and Ryan is reassured by the confidence in her tone.  
‘You already know my name I assume…’ he says and she nods briefly.  
‘Yeah, yeah I do. Come on, let’s go. And keep your voice down.’  
Ryan naturally obeys because that’s what he’s been taught to do. It’s hard to judge in the poor light, but she’s not as pretty as Melissa is. She’s smaller, thinner, but makes up for size in attitude. Her walk is more confident, tone far more commanding. Melissa often repeated phrases he’d heard before, too tired to come up with her own words. Carolyn speaks like her own person, like she hasn’t been told what to say, how to act, when to smile. Her make-up is darker, less subtle, dramatized by the shadows of the hallway. It’s hard to get an idea of what someone looks like when their back is turned, but it’s easy to pick up on her nature. She is almost entirely silent, even in her heavy boots.  
‘Where are you taking me, Carolyn?’  
‘Outside,’ she says briefly. There’s a pause where Ryan blinks a bit.  
‘Why?’  
‘Fresh air. It’s part of your treatment, I already said.’  
‘Oh. Alright.’  
Maybe it’s just because she’s trying to keep quiet, but her voice sounds strange, low. He doesn’t recognize her accent.  
She leads him all the way down the stairs to the ground floor. The front door is already open, as if waiting for them. Silhouetted against the moonlight streaming in, Ryan can just make out a dark shape blocking their entrance. They tiptoe slowly closer, his eyes eventually adjusting to the darkness, trying to work out what it is.  
It’s a body, unmistakeably human, and he stops in his tracks, wondering again if perhaps he’s dreaming.   
‘Don’t stop,’ Carolyn whispers, taking a firm hold of his wrist, pulling him over. He doesn’t think to protest a second time. She’s smaller than he is, but undeniably stronger and the staff always have the upper hand wherever he’s concerned, so he doesn’t struggle. It’s not worth it.  
When they get closer, the body moves, wriggling incessantly to stop them getting past, and he breathes out slightly, relieved they aren’t dead. Ryan doesn’t know him well, because he works nights – but it looks like Reginald, the doorman, bound and gagged.   
Carolyn steps over him without breaking her stride, but Ryan lingers for a moment, stumbling slightly.  
‘Why… why is he tied up?’  
‘I thought you of all people, Ryan, would know to not ask silly questions when I don’t want to explain,’ Carolyn says evenly, and so there’s nothing he can really do. She’s right. He should know by now.  
There is a clear sky, stars out, moon almost full, waiting for someone to take advantage of it. Carolyn makes her way quickly across the open expanse of grass, wordlessly dragging Ryan along behind her. Neither of them speak at all until they reach the gates, and this is when Ryan knows there’s something wrong. Carolyn stands for a moment, looking uncertain, eyes directed at the wall in front of them.  
‘What’s going on?’ he asks, and she pulls a face.   
‘Lost my key, we’ll have to climb,’ she explains briskly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Ryan stares at her in confusion, but she doesn’t meet his eye. Maybe she doesn’t notice, maybe she doesn’t want to. Charlotte and Sally are the only ones who know where the key to the gate lives, and if a member of staff wants to leave the premises, then they have to ask for special permission. That’s what he’s heard, but none of them have ever expressed an interest in leaving before. There’s no need, he supposes.  
‘We can’t climb. There’s…’ he starts, but then trails off, glancing at the wall again. The barbed wire has been cut. He remembers the dream, being able to see over the top, the net of creepers, wire pulled right back. The wall looms twice as high in person, towering above them, the vines thinly spread and flimsy. It’s not like the dream. They’ll never manage it.  
‘I can’t climb,’ he says. Carolyn sighs.   
‘Yes you can.’  
‘I don’t want to,’ Ryan says stubbornly, but Carolyn just laughs at him. He’s not used to arguing, not since Jon left. He’s far too accustomed to agreeing, so the sentence doesn’t come out as strong as he wants it to.  
‘Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?’ she asks, letting go of his wrist for a moment. ‘Because that’s your only choice; you do have to climb, one way or another.’  
He shakes his head. ‘You can’t make me,’ he says, though they both know that’s not true.  
Carolyn stands still for a moment, one leg relaxed, arms folded. She frowns slightly, weighing up her options as she looks him up and down.  
‘Alright,’ she says decisively, when he doesn’t make a move. He just stands limply as she picks up his hands, taking a deep breath like she’s working up to diving under water. She has to stand on her tiptoes, stretching up to her full extent to get on his eye level. Then she leans forward and kisses him.  
It takes Ryan by surprise, so he just stands dumbly and lets it happen. Her lipstick tastes strange and metallic, coating his taste buds until he eventually protests. Carolyn seems faintly amused when he pulls away, rubbing his mouth furiously.  
‘Nobody’s ever done that to you before, have they?’ she says, and he shakes his head without thinking.  
‘What did you do that for…?’ he asks, taking a cautious step back. She breathes out thoughtfully, running a thumb over her bottom lip.  
‘Are you going to climb for me now?’  
He shakes his head, confused. ‘No.’  
She nods. ‘Didn’t think so,’ she says, and then leans down, fiddling with her bootlaces. ‘We better do it the hard way then.’  
Ryan watches her uncertainly, wondering if he should be afraid or not. Maybe he should run. But she’d probably catch him. He could try calling for help, but the main building is too far away. No one would hear him. But maybe he’s not scared anyway, what can she really do?  
Then she takes out a knife.  
‘Climb or I’ll kill you.’  
Is it actually a life or death situation, or is it an empty threat, one she doesn’t think he’ll risk questioning? He’s never been very good at making decisions, so he reluctantly turns back to face the wall.  
‘I can’t do it without your help,’ he says, and she laughs at him again.   
‘I don’t believe you. Climb.’  
She’s not giving him a choice anymore, so he struggles with the spindly creepers and the rough stone, letting her see for herself. Carolyn raises her eyebrows when he turns to face her again, rubbing his grazed knuckles.   
‘You really can’t…’ she says, seeming uncharacteristically bemused. ‘Alright, turn back round. I’ll give you a leg up.’  
He’s relieved to see she has to put the knife down, but he still can’t run and he doesn’t want to get into a fight. It’s not worth it.  
Even under her instruction, it takes several attempts for him to realise what she’s asking. Directions are usually simple: he’s told to follow, to sit down, to stand up. They would never ask him to do something he couldn’t do. He tells her again and again, but they go through the routine about a dozen times, and eventually he jumps high enough to pull himself up on top of the wall. If it seemed tall from the ground, it seems taller on top. The road below sways dizzyingly in front of his eyes, and he hurriedly turns back to look at Carolyn. She picks up the knife again, takes a few steps back and only has to run up once before she gets high enough to scramble up beside him.  
‘So what now?’ he asks nervously, and she elaborately shushes him.   
‘Wait.’  
‘What do you mean?’  
‘Just wait.’  
So they wait. And within moments there’s the distant sound of an engine, and then a strange black car pulls up at an alarming pace and screeches to a halt beside the gates. At least Ryan thinks it’s a car. He’s never seen one in real life before. Carolyn smiles.  
‘Perfect timing,’ she mutters, and then turns to look at him. ‘Right, come on. Get down.’  
Ryan’s heart sinks, and he shakes his head. ‘I can’t.’  
At that moment the passenger door of the car opens and someone gets out, followed swiftly by the driver. Male, both of them. Differing heights, differing hair colour. Their clothes are nondescript and he can’t make any other assumptions because they’re both wearing scarves that obscure their noses and mouths. He shivers slightly, wondering again if this is a nightmare. It had been getting progressively more difficult to tell as time went on. Perhaps jumping will wake him up.  
‘This is our ride, get down,’ Carolyn tells him again, as if it’s so simple. But she doesn’t understand. He can’t just jump. At Harmonious Moon they treated him like he was made of glass, speaking softly, moving slowly. He was special, they said, but sometimes he got the feeling they meant fragile. They would tiptoe round in circles, cautious of breaking him. He is special; if he does what she says he’ll surely shatter. So he can’t jump.  
‘Come on, both of you. Quickly,’ the dark haired boy says urgently. His voice is muffled by the obstructive material, but he sounds serious, uptight. Ryan looks helplessly at Carolyn.  
‘But I can’t… I really can’t.’  
‘Or you just won’t,’ Carolyn sighs, and he gives him a clap on the back, making him flinch. ‘It’s easy.’  
She won’t do it first and demonstrate because she doesn’t trust him, obviously. He hates feeling this precarious, but they don’t understand. He can’t make them understand. Jumping would be better than falling, he supposes, but both still seem impossible. He wants to explain why he can’t, but before he gets a chance to make his mind up, Carolyn pushes him.   
He doesn’t fall, but he doesn’t jump either. It’s odd, he was building it up for what seemed like ages, but there is no jumping, there is no falling. There is only landing. His legs meet the ground, and he staggers for a second before they buckle. All the breath is knocked out of him, and he lies on his front for a second, wondering what he was so afraid of. It hurt, but he’s not broken. In a strange way it feels almost like an achievement.  
His train of thought is cut off by the sound of Carolyn jumping down after him, landing easily on her feet.   
‘Ryan?’  
He shakes his head, slowly getting up onto his knees, brushing the dust of the road off his shoulders. The dark haired boy has his arms folded, an eyebrow raised.  
‘Sorry,’ Carolyn offers guiltily, extending a hand. Ryan reluctantly takes it.  
‘I told you I couldn’t,’ he says, as she pulls him to his feet again.  
‘But you did,’ the dark haired boy reminds him, turning back towards the car. ‘Come on, time to go.’  
Carolyn readily follows him, but Ryan hesitates again, letting her go. This is another thing he doesn’t want to do. Now it’s up close, there’s not doubt about what it is: a car, just like the pictures, the stories. But he’s never been in one before, and it’s not something he’s willing to try.  
‘I’m not going in that thing.’  
‘Great…’ Carolyn mutters under her breath. The fair boy doesn’t look very sure about what to do, but again the dark haired one shakes his head.  
‘Yes, you are, Ryan. Get in.’  
‘How do you know my name?’  
The boy frowns. ‘Did you hear me? I said get in the car.’  
Ryan shakes his head stubbornly. He’s finally starting to feel awake. For the past two years he’s been under a cloud, a dreamlike fog that hung over him and Harmonious Moon, keeping him distant and drowsy. He’s finally seeing things clearly again, and he doesn’t want to cooperate anymore. Perhaps it’s because he’s being kidnapped, or perhaps he’s tired of being told what to do. Maybe it’s just that nobody ever tells him anything straight, instead letting him drift along in a half asleep state of confusion. So he won’t do as they say, not without answers.  
‘I’m not getting in that car until you at least tell me what you want with me. And who are you? How do you know my name?’  
The three of them blink at him for a moment, and then exchange a few glances, silently conferring for a moment or two. Then the dark haired boy sighs.   
‘Alright, you want to do this now. Then let’s do this now.’  
It’s Ryan’s turn to stand and blink in uncertainty now, surprised it was that easy. The two boys start pulling at their masks at the same time, letting Carolyn fidget indecisively beside them. Her face is already exposed, so she tugs her hair out of the ties that were disguising its true length. The wispy ends don’t even reach her shoulders. How Ryan thought she was Melissa, he can’t understand.  
She’s staring at him now, mildly bemused by his obvious indifference. The other two stare at him too, unmasked and incredulous. The dark haired one has equally dark eyes, making them the main focus of his face, so the reveal of a nose and mouth don’t greatly change his appearance. The fairer haired has a rather ordinary pale face, and straight teeth. He seems confused by Ryan’s blank stare, they all do.  
Ryan looks at these three strangers, not realising what he’s supposed to notice. The dark haired one folds his arms.  
‘You’re really slow on the uptake,’ he says. Without the coarse material disguising his voice, Ryan finally starts to comprehend the obvious. For a moment he doesn’t know what to say. His mind races with the sudden understanding, trying to find him an answer, and helplessly conjuring up Melissa along the way. “What are you so afraid of?” she had asked. He still doesn’t know.  
He takes a cautious step back, hoping to feel the rough reassurance of the wall behind him, something to hold on to. ‘Oh no…’  
‘Not quite the reaction I was hoping for…’ Jon says, mildly taken aback. Perhaps he doesn’t think Ryan’s serious. He looks older, obviously, but that’s not enough of an excuse. It’s been five years. Would Ryan really forget their faces so fast? Spencer glances furtively at the car behind them, beginning to look anxious.  
‘We should go,’ he says. Ryan blinks; shaking his head one last time to make sure he’s not dreaming.   
‘But… but I don’t understand… What are you doing here? And where’s… where’s Brendon?’  
Jon and Spencer exchange a glance. Carolyn shakes her head; a wave of something close to irritation passes over her face.   
‘You are slow,’ she says carelessly, shaking her hair forward, rubbing at her reddened lips. ‘Brendon is right here.’   
For a moment he’s expecting her to produce Brendon from some pocket. But he’s not that stupid. Her sudden smile is so familiar, yet it can’t be. He would have noticed. Her dressed up accent is gone as she reaches down the front of her uniform, pulling the stuffing out in a handful.  
‘Yes, all fake,’ she says, losing the aggravated tone all of a sudden. She still looks comically pretty. She looks bizarre. But she’s not a she. She’s not Carolyn, because there never was a Carolyn. There was no girl at all.  
‘Ryan?’ They’re all still staring at him.  
‘You lied to me?’ he snaps, surprising himself with his sudden frustration. ‘Why did you lie to me?’  
His three supposed friends exchange a few glances, and then turn back to him, uncertain. Jon’s clothes are a strange mismatched collection of fabrics and colours; Spencer looks tired and underfed; and Brendon just looks ridiculous in his dress and boots and eyeshadow. They’re all so suddenly real, and Ryan hates them for it.  
He takes another step back before they can answer him, shaking his head. ‘You aren’t my friends anymore. Leave me alone.’  
They look a bit startled. Jon frowns. ‘Excuse me?’  
Ryan shakes his head again, more forceful, a clear sign of rejection. ‘It’s not even you. I know it’s not. I would have recognized you sooner. I wouldn’t forget you so quickly… How can I tell if it’s really you? They left me. They didn’t try and take me the first time, why would they take me now? Well, that’s just it. They wouldn’t… and I should know. And it’s not you… you’re not right.’  
They stand listening to his nervous babble, uncertain, almost amused by it.  
‘He’s gone mad…’ Brendon mutters and Spencer elbows him sharply. Jon raises an eyebrow.  
‘You’re rambling, Ryan, we have to go. Quickly, like I said,’ he interrupts, slightly apprehensively. Ryan was running out of steam anyway, but he still feels irritated. They aren’t taking him seriously. They don’t think he means it.  
‘I do get a choice then? I thought you were abducting me,’ he says bitterly. Brendon snorts with laughter, and Jon frowns.  
‘No, we’re rescuing you,’ he argues, and Ryan stares at him.  
‘Rescuing me?’ he repeats. ‘If this was a rescue mission, why did you have to lie to me? What were the masks and disguises? Why do I need rescuing anyway, this is my home!’  
Ideally, this is where he would run away. Unfortunately, there’s nowhere to run to. There are no vines this side of the wall, and he couldn’t do that on his own anyway. Perhaps the staff have noticed something’s wrong by now. Perhaps they’ll hear him.  
The other three, suddenly realising he’s serious, pounce on him before he can try anything. It’s three against one so he can’t fight them, and they’ve always been stronger than him anyway. When they were children he used to fight with Jon all the time, and though Jon almost always won, Ryan could sometimes match him. Now, even with complete persistence, he’s hopeless. Brendon is so much smaller than him as well, but somehow Ryan feels feeble and inadequate by comparison. They’ve always been stronger willed too, and by the time they’re pushing him into the back-seat of the car, he’s given up struggling.


	4. Travelling By Taxicab

Brendon gets in beside Ryan, and Spencer and Jon scramble back into the front, Spencer driving. Ryan watches them, feeling defeated. Then the engine starts up, and he turns to stare out the window.  
‘You could have just left me alone,’ he says bitterly and Brendon scoffs. ‘This was a long time coming, Ryan, you must have known that. And I know you’re glad really. You maybe just don’t know it yet.’  
‘It’ll never be the same,’ Ryan says and he turns back round. Brendon smiles half-heartedly as he rubs at his make-up.  
‘Maybe not…’ he says. ‘But I think its high time things changed. Do you really want things to stay the same forever?’  
‘I don’t have a choice anymore…’ Ryan replies glumly. The stitching round the hem of his sleeve is starting to unravel, and he absent-mindedly starts picking at it, head down. ‘I never have choice.’  
Brendon rolls his eyes, and says, ‘Well, let us change our evil ways then. From now you can have a choice.’  
The car suddenly roars into life, pulling out of their parked spot at an incredible speed, and Ryan forgets his next words entirely. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, he doesn’t know what to do, what to think. In an overall sense, he could almost find it fun. Only he doesn’t. He hates it. Perhaps it’s the whole situation, tainting what could be an otherwise thrilling experience. Somehow he doesn’t think so.  
Brendon laughs at him. ‘You should see your face.’  
Ryan can’t say anything at all for a moment. He struggles to find something to hold onto, anything, biting down on his bottom lip to hide his general distress.  
‘What’s happening?’ he manages to ask in choked sort of way, and Brendon frowns. He seems amused by the question.  
‘Nothing’s happening. We’re just driving. Pretty fast, I’ll admit, but that’s because of how long it took to convince you to come with us.’  
‘Right, of course…’ Ryan says. He swallows his next words, and looks away from the window. Watching the countryside sweeping by at such an alarming pace makes him feel dizzy.  
‘Don’t be so dramatic, you’re fine,’ Brendon says airily. If he’s trying to be comforting, he’s not doing a very good job. Ryan almost preferred him as Carolyn.  
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Ryan agrees. Brendon snorts, a little heartlessly, Ryan thinks. But then he leans forward to alert Jon. There’s a window separating the front and back seats, and Brendon knocks on it, raising his voice.  
‘Jon?’  
‘What?’  
‘Tell Spencer to slow down. Let Ryan get used to it.’  
‘Ryan shouldn’t have wasted so much time in arguing. Then we wouldn’t have to go so fast,’ Jon replies shortly and then turns away from them again. Brendon pulls a face and mutters something behind his back.  
‘Oh well, I tried. You’ll get used to it. Just talk and distract yourself.’  
Ryan is only half listening. In an attempt to avoid the disorientating speed of the scenery to his right, he’s looking at Brendon, looking at his mouth, where the faint shadow of red has faded to brown, with cracks like a desert.  
‘Why did you taste like blood?’ he asks, already knowing the answer. Brendon smiles wryly.  
‘Women have to suffer for their looks, don’t they?’ he replies lightly, rolling up his sleeve. ‘You have to admit my dedication is admirable.’  
He holds out his arm for Ryan to see, and there are five different cuts, marring his otherwise flawless skin. They are at various different stages of healing, the one furthest up being obviously new. Ryan shudders.  
‘That’s sick. I’ll never get rid of the taste.’  
Brendon grins cheerfully, not bothered by Ryan’s obvious disgust. ‘Ah yes: the unsuccessful attempt at seducing you. Most men don’t notice the taste, you see. You’re probably the first one.’  
Ryan turns back to the window, shaking his head. ‘Seduce me…’ he repeats sarcastically. ‘Of course…’  
‘You hear that, Jon?’ Brendon says, raising his voice again for Jon’s benefit. ‘You’re lucky I brought the knife as back up. Ryan is resistant to Carolyn’s charms.’  
‘Whatever you say,’ Jon says lightly. ‘I still say my way works nine out of ten times.’  
‘Of course you would.’ Brendon rolls his eyes, and then looks back at Ryan. ‘He’s not always right, Jon. Though he thinks he is.’  
Ryan almost smiles.  
They lapse into silence after that, leaving Ryan with only the unpredictable hitches of the car engine to focus on. They’re out in the middle of nowhere for some time, though it’s hard to tell what the surroundings are like in the dark. All the while the road is uneven beneath them, gritty and rough from lack of other vehicles. It’s mostly a blur. Ryan doesn’t start focusing properly until they reach the city. He relaxes too soon, assuming the road will smooth out, but they turn off down a back alley, and the streets become cobbled. The ride becomes even more unsettling. At least it forces Spencer to slow down.  
They drive on and on for what seems like forever, until eventually, they reach an old abandoned street, where all the houses are decayed and derelict. There are rows of falling down multi story buildings, lined up either side of them. They loom in a sinister fashion, blocking out the thin moonlight, and dousing the car in shadow. They slow to a crawl; and it’s outside the second last one on the right that they finally draw to a halt.   
The juddering engine is finally turned off, and Ryan just sits, breathing shallowly and staring up at the foreboding old house as the other three clamber out. He waits for Brendon to open his door for him, and then he’s immediately sick in the gutter outside.  
‘You’re so different, Ryan…’ Spencer sighs. The words themselves are simple, but they seem to have more significance coming from him. He almost sounds guilty.  
‘It’s not our fault,’ Jon says tiredly, because Ryan has decided he’s not listening. ‘He’s different because Harmonious Moon have made him different. We just took him for a little car journey.’  
‘It’s a Taxi,’ Brendon corrects, and he pats Ryan’s shoulder as he speaks. ‘I did tell you to slow down.’  
‘Jon told me not to,’ Spencer protests. Jon snorts, not bothering to defend himself.  
‘You look ridiculous, Brendon.’  
‘Thanks, Jon. Thanks a lot,’ Brendon says, sarcastically. ‘Whose fault is that?’  
‘It’s no use complaining about my techniques when they always work,’ Jon replies calmly. ‘You get away with some things as a girl, Brendon. Different things from when you’re a boy. It’s necessary.’  
Irritated by the statement, or perhaps just bored of standing out in the cold, Brendon pulls insistently at Ryan’s arm. ‘Come on, we should to go inside.’  
Ryan lets himself be dragged after them with some reluctance, too tired to protest properly. The sparse light from the moon helps them find their way through the battered front door, and then they’re on their own until Jon locates the lantern. From that point, there’s another door at the end of the short hallway, and when they step through that Ryan realises this is it. This is their home. He’s almost disappointed with himself for being so dismayed, for feeling his heart sink as the door swings shut behind them. When did he earn the right to have such standards? They’re not his friends, they’re his kidnappers, he reminds himself, what was he really expecting, a palace? But they had told him he was being rescued. On some level he must have sub consciously hoping for something better than Harmonious Moon.   
There’s one room; the air smells damp and musty, and there are slimy trickles of water staining the back walls. Most of the floor is a mess of rubble, pushed back to the corners, leaving a clear circle of floor space. It’s bare and empty, save for a few disorderly boxes, a few course blankets thrown over them, and a charred ring of stones in the middle, scattered with ash. The close stone walls generate cold air long after the fire has been relit.   
Ryan feels decidedly uneasy as soon as he steps inside. He keeps thinking it will wear off, but it doesn’t. He declines the offer of food. All he really wants to do is crawl into a corner and sleep, but the other three don’t obviously trust him enough to let him out of their sight, so he stays by the fire. He could try and run, but he doesn’t know where he is, and besides: Jon chains his wrist to Brendon’s so he can’t get away. He’s stuck with them until the end of the night.  
He eventually collapses onto his side, and tries to block them out where he is. Even by the fire the stone floor remains cold, and he’s so accustomed to falling asleep in the complete silence of his own room, that it doesn’t matter how low they keep their voices. He can’t sleep. He just closes his eyes, and lets them think he can.  
‘Plan for tomorrow?’ Spencer says. He becomes distinctly more talkative when he thinks it’s just the three of them.  
‘We’ll have to see how it goes…’ Jon replies. He drops the bossy, overruling voice, sounding less sure of himself.  
‘It’ll be easy,’ Brendon assures them confidently. He sounds much and such the same. ‘The worst is over.’  
‘Sure, don’t jump to conclusions or anything,’ Spencer says, sarcastic. ‘When do we next see Plankton, Jon?’  
‘I haven’t thought about it…’ Jon replies, distant, preoccupied. ‘Once we’ve sorted Ryan out, I suppose. Why?’  
‘We’re low on fuel,’ Spencer says. ‘The drive to Harmonious Moon and back really cut into the supply.’  
‘Can we walk to the harbour?’ Jon asks, sounding thoughtful. ‘It probably seems a long way for poor puppet boy Ryan…’  
‘Puppet boy?’ Ryan exclaims, without thinking. He sits up again and Jon gives him a wan smile.   
‘I thought you were asleep.’  
‘I can’t. It’s too uncomfortable. And you’re all talking anyway.’  
Brendon laughs, not exactly good-naturedly. ‘Get used to it. We don’t treat you like royalty round here.’  
Ryan frowns, and ignores him. ‘Why puppet…?’  
Jon shrugs. ‘It was a light hearted nickname. I was inferring that with your new persona, your disjointed walk and general broken appearance, you remind me of a puppet: useless without the aid of a puppeteer. I meant no offence.’  
Ryan doesn’t say anything for a moment. He thinks about the words properly, and how only today, he was thinking along similar lines. Now faced with someone finally saying his doubts out loud, he clams up, irritated.  
‘What’s happening at the harbour?’ he asks, and the other three all exchange shifty glances. Spencer’s the one who reluctantly speaks.  
‘Nothing you can’t prevent,’ he says lightly, and then quickly brushes past the subject. ‘Let him sleep, Jon. Unchain him.’  
‘We all know that’s a bad idea,’ Jon replies. ‘Not unless Brendon goes with him.’  
‘Oh, don’t make me do your dirty work,’ Brendon sighs. He gives Ryan a wry smile, his next words laced with jovial sarcasm, ‘And like Jon, I mean no offence.’  
‘Of course not,’ Ryan says. Meeting his eyes, he taps the side of his head resentfully. ‘Puppet brain after all. I’m not sure I even follow what you’re saying.’  
Brendon doesn’t look remotely regretful. He smiles again, pats Ryan’s arm. ‘Better get used to it. No one brought us up to be nice like you.’  
Jon snorts with laughter, though he tries to hide it when Ryan catches his eye. ‘We don’t mean it, Ryan, not really. You need to learn not to take everything so personally. You’ve always done that.’  
‘Alright, enough is enough,’ Spencer says, offering Jon his empty hand. ‘Give me the key.’  
‘Which key?’ Jon asks. He frowns like he really doesn’t know, accompanied by a subtle smirk. Spencer sighs.  
‘Stop it, Jon. Give it to me.’  
‘I’ll just take a guess at it, shall I?’ Jon says, shifting his position to fish the supposed key out of his pocket. Spencer takes it without thanking him and then makes his way round the fire to where the other two are. He unlocks the cuff around Ryan’s wrist, pulling him to his feet.  
‘Come on. Sleep where you want. We’ll still be in the same room, it’s ridiculous.’  
‘You’re in trouble if we lose him again…’ Jon mutters but he doesn’t protest anymore. Brendon suddenly frowns, shaking his arm, and making the chain jangle.  
‘Hey, Spencer, unchain me! I don’t want this thing weighing me down!’  
‘Sorry, I just dropped the key,’ Spencer lies, surreptitiously sliding it into his pocket. He takes Ryan’s hand and pulls him away from the fire.  
‘No you haven’t!’ Brendon says disbelievingly. ‘You still have it on you.’  
‘No I don’t, crawl around see if you can find it,’ Spencer replies innocently, without turning back round. He smiles at Ryan.  
‘There, sleep. It’s not as warm over here but we won’t be so loud, and you’ll probably be more comfortable.’  
Ryan searches Spencer’s face, sensing he’s being genuine. He stays silent for a moment, struggling with conflicting emotions.  
‘Thanks…’ he mutters reluctantly; not wanting to have to like them. Spencer pulls a face.  
‘Forget it. I’ll tell them to keep it down.’  
Ryan keeps his teeth gritted, and Spencer shrugs guiltily.  
‘Sorry,’ he offers.  
‘Sorry for what?’  
‘I don’t know. You don’t seem happy.’  
‘Your powers of deduction astound me.’  
‘Right, well, now I’m sorry I tried,’ Spencer says, sighing irritably. He turns away, and goes back to the fireside.   
Ryan winds his arms around himself, confused again. On some twisted level they seem to really think they’ve rescued him. What made them think he wanted rescued? He wasn’t necessarily happy, but Harmonious Moon was his home. Only now, is he starting to realise how much he misses it.


	5. The Harbour

Sally storms down the dark hallway, so enraged that she barely notices Dr Skinner as she barges right into him.  
‘Temper, temper,’ he warns under his breath; she pushes irritably past and marches right into Charlotte’s office.  
‘He’s gone,’ she says.  
‘Who’s gone?’ Charlotte asks, taken aback by Sally’s dramatic entrance.  
‘Ryan,’ Sally says.  
‘Ryan?’ Dr Skinner echoes, hovering in the doorway.  
‘Yes, Ryan. Listen why don’t you?’ Sally snaps. Charlotte shakes her head.  
‘Oh dear…’ she says faintly.  
‘I told you I didn’t trust him…’ Dr Skinner mutters. Sally ignores him.  
‘Charlotte, say something.’  
‘There’s not much I can say,’ Charlotte replies. She frowns. ‘I suppose we’ll just have to wait for him to come back, like the last one did.’  
‘In that case, we’ll be ready,’ Sally says seriously, and she turns quickly away, heading towards the door. ‘I’ll inform Nancy.’  
‘I tried to make you see sense, didn’t I? All this time, I tried,’ Dr Skinner says. Sally glares at him.  
‘Don’t just stand their telling us where we went wrong. Go and find the others, now!’ she orders, and then storms off back down the hallway, Dr Skinner only a few steps behind, muttering darkly.  
‘I told you so, I told you so,’ he repeats over and over again, in a bizarre rhythm, but Sally continues to ignore him. She doesn’t want to admit, even to herself, that he was right all along.  
*  
_‘Goodnight.’_  
_‘What did you say?’_  
_‘I said goodnight. Sweet dreams.’_  
_‘Why would you want to have sweet dreams? You’ll only wake up disappointed.’_  
Ryan lies awake, eyes flickering between open and closed, the same conversation going over and over in his head. An old and faded memory: only just resurfacing now in the half dreaming, half reflecting stage of the morning. Somewhere buried in his head, this exchange came back to life. Fourteen-year-old Jon sits crossed legged on the end of his bed, a resigned look on his face, like he’s already lived the same life three times. He flinches when Ryan says goodnight, looking bemused, lost in thought.  
‘What did you say?’ He hadn’t been listening. He wasn’t often listening. Ryan repeated the word for him, embellishing it along the way, and Jon had snorted scornfully. He seemed to find every waking moment a disappointment. Ryan could never understand how one so young – one who had everything he needed – could be so unhappy, so bitter. Yesterday morning, Ryan had woken up and started to wonder if he finally understood.  
This morning is different. The real present day Jon had been asleep next to him less than half an hour ago, still not content. He had been tossing and turning all night, and due to the lack of blankets, the lack of warmth, the four of them had been in rather close proximity. On Ryan’s right side, Brendon had sighed and shifted, mumbling incomprehensibly to himself at times – and on the other side of Brendon, Spencer wasn’t any better. Being on the outside meant he kept losing blankets entirely, so the constant tug of war between him and Jon didn’t help any of them. It was a troubled night.  
At least they had risen early, leaving Ryan to lie in peace, half asleep, half listening to their conversation. They had moved back to the fireside, lowering their voices and he had given up, drifting in and out of long forgotten memories. For a while at least, he was almost content. But it isn’t long before they started hassling at him to wake up.  
‘Ryan, come on. Get up. Stop wasting time.’  
‘You just have to insult him. That worked last time.’  
‘Shut up, Brendon.’  
‘Alright, calm down. I’m not serious.’  
‘You never are. Why don’t you drop the act sometime?’  
‘Both of you shut up. Ryan!’  
Ryan does as he’s told with extreme reluctance. As for the day ahead, he’s afraid of what they have planned for him. They were talking about the harbour, talking about him; he had heard them last night. Unlike the Harmonious Moon staff, their practised smiles of denial don’t convince him.  
Jon and Spencer greet him with as offhand good morning. He doesn’t return it.  
‘Got your colour back,’ Brendon remarks. The accompanying smile tells Ryan he’s joking, it’s an ironic statement. Ryan isn’t sure how to respond to it, to him. Jon is almost as he was, a little older, a little wiser. He seems more preoccupied, more things on his mind. There are always things on Jon’s mind. He never stops, never slows down, not until everything is perfect. Spencer is lukewarm, the way he used to be, but perhaps a little more nervous in Ryan’s company. He loyally sides with the other two, but he often seems to find them irritating. Jon and Spencer have both stayed consistent.  
Brendon hasn’t changed dramatically. He might be happier, or he might just not take things so seriously anymore, it’s hard to tell. He never did back in the day, but there were moments, of boredom, frustration. He would stop winding Ryan up, perhaps back down from an argument without warning. He never said why, and Ryan had given up questioning the random moments of despondency. It was all part of his nature.  
This morning, he smiles wanly at Brendon’s comment, deciding to not let it bother him. It was just the way they were; they had told him not to take everything to heart. He knows he looks like a ghost. He doesn’t have to hate them for pointing it out.  
When at Harmonious Moon, he was surrounded by children all as white and ethereal as him. They would all drift silently up and down the hallways, like lost souls, purposeless but absorbed. He had never thought about it until now, but things used to be different. What had changed since they had left?  
Jon and Spencer are both twice as tanned as they were when he knew them. Maybe that’s part of the reason he didn’t recognise them immediately. Brendon is less so, but he used to be more ghostly than Ryan, so the difference is there, subtle or not. They’re in a better state for five years away from the orphanage.  
Ryan glances down at his hands, wondering if despite Brendon’s sarcasm, he has regained some colour, but no such luck. His hands are as pale and lifeless as they were before.  
He begins to wonder why that is. Thinking about Harmonious Moon, all he sees are long lazy afternoons spent lying in the grass with Melissa. Perhaps it was because he was always in the shade, under the trees. And that was a recent thing, a sudden fad accompanying the latest phase of medication. Perhaps they thought he needed it.  
Jon’s watching him like he can read his mind. ‘Did they stop letting you outside?’  
Ryan shakes his head loyally. ‘No. I was outside all the time,’ he says truthfully, but leaves out that it was never without supervision.  
‘It doesn’t look like it,’ Spencer remarks.  
‘It looks like they kept you locked in a tower for a good few years,’ Brendon adds. He frowns slightly, tilting his head. ‘Without any windows.’  
Jon nods his head in half-hearted agreement, but his eyes are staring off into space. He’s not listening to them anymore.  
Ryan thinks back on the previous stages of treatment, being locked in his room with the curtains drawn. He sat in the dark, falling endlessly in and out of sleeping and dreaming. He thinks about this, and yet finds himself defending the orphanage again.  
‘You don’t have to give me that look,’ he starts, preparing to warp the truth for them. ‘I wasn’t a prisoner. I could have left any time I wanted to, they would have let me. I just didn’t want to.’  
‘Oh, of course, Ryan…’ Brendon says, mocking, patronising. He doesn’t believe it. None of them believe it. Spencer frowns, bites his lip and Jon shifts his weight onto the other leg, thoughtful, undecided.  
Ryan sighs. The sleeve hem he had been picking at before has started fraying, and the uneven ends have started to irritate his skin, rubbing at the newest needle scars. He digs his nails in, trying to scratch the tenderness away, but just makes it worse, reddening his ghostly pallor, finally bringing some colour back. He almost smiles.  
‘What’s wrong with your arm?’ Jon asks suddenly. Ryan hadn’t realised he was watching.  
‘Nothing,’ he denies quickly, pulling his sleeve down again. If they see the damage the needles left, they’ll only start at him again. ‘It’s nothing.’  
‘Let me see,’ Jon says. He sounds tentative, but when Ryan tries to step back, he grabs his arm. Again, there’s no choice. Jon’s hands are cool against his hot skin, but his frown is irritating Ryan, so he still tries to pull away.  
‘I said it’s nothing. Let me go.’  
‘What were they doing to you?’ Jon interrupts, gently tapping his thumb on Ryan’s wrist. Spencer and Brendon hover a step away, intrigued.  
Ryan sighs. ‘Nothing. It was treatment.’  
‘Treatment for what?’ Jon scoffs, suddenly sounding like old Jon again. Suddenly disliking the way they’re looking at him, the way they’re treating him like a circus freak, Ryan manages to pull his arm away, taking a step back.  
‘I have a genuine condition. They were helping me.’  
‘Were they now?’ Jon says, folding his arms. ‘What’s it called then, this condition?’  
‘Like you would know what it is anyway,’ Ryan retorts stubbornly. He hates this. He hates having to continuously justify himself. The doctors just did things to him back then. He didn’t get to choose.  
‘Don’t evade the question. What’s it called?’  
‘I wasn’t evading the question,’ Ryan lies, folding his arms too. He’ll have to tell them now, if only to prove a point. ‘It’s called DSS.’  
‘Do you know what DSS is, Ryan?’ Jon asks, sounding almost amused. Ryan doesn’t know how to react at first, because truthfully he doesn’t know what it is. They never told him.  
‘Why would I tell you?’ he says eventually, and Jon clenches his fists in frustration.  
‘They never told you, did they?’  
‘What is it to you if they didn’t?’  
‘You’re impossible!’ Jon snaps. He stops, lost for something better. His next argument starts at a reasonable tone, but quickly becomes irritated when Ryan argues back.  
‘You’re so institutionalized, so dependent on them. We want to help you, but you won’t let us in, I don’t understand. Why do you keep defending them?’  
‘What do you mean why? You kidnapped me, that comes with consequences. I don’t want to be here!’  
‘So you were happy at Harmonious Moon, were you?’  
‘Why would I stay if I wasn’t happy?’  
Jon throws his hands up in despair. ‘You keep clinging on to that, it’s pathetic. You can’t have been happy.’  
Ryan glares at him. ‘Well you obviously know me better than they do, better than I do. Why don’t you tell me if I look happy now?’  
‘How about I tell you what they were really doing? Do you want to know what DSS is?’  
‘Oh give it a rest, both of you!’ Spencer interrupts. ‘Let’s not do all this now. Please?’  
Jon pauses mid flow, forgetting what he was going to say. He wants to keep arguing, they can all see that. But he doesn’t. He listens, backs down.  
‘Alright, not now…’ he mutters. Glancing up at Ryan again, he takes a step forward, giving him a little shake. ‘But if you keep up this resistance, then there will be consequences. Real consequences.’  
‘You’re threatening me now?’ Ryan says, incredulous. He pushes Jon back, refusing to be afraid. ‘And yet you question my loyalty issues.’  
Jon sighs. ‘You reduced me to this. Stop defending them. We’re your friends. We want to help you.’  
Ryan sticks his chin out and folds his arms. ‘You’re not my friends.’  
‘Drop the act, Ryan!’ Brendon snaps, finally stepping up. ‘You don’t believe it really, you were too scared to come with us, so we forced you. You’re better off here. Stop doing this, you don’t mean it.’  
Ryan does what he says for a moment, takes a metaphorical step back. He looks at them all properly, trying to understand what they’re saying, see it from their point of view. He looks at Spencer biting his nails, Brendon staring at him apprehensively, Jon looking at the floor. He thinks about Harmonious Moon, and how perhaps he understands what they’re saying a little bit. He wasn’t happy, not entirely. But he was safe. He knew what to expect, they were on the same side. He thought they were anyway. His friends say they want to help him, and he can see what they’re trying to do. He doesn’t know what he wants. His emotions are so conflicted, telling him to give in, telling him to keep fighting. Everything he knows about Harmonious Moon was conflicted too. The thing the orphanage and his supposed friends have in common is the way they feed him their own opinions, try and convince him he thinks the same. It’s always been like that. The only thing that was ever really him was to argue with Jon. He has to hold on to that.  
‘I do mean it,’ he says simply, shaking his head. ‘I mean every word.’  
It’s a mistake. The three of them sigh in a resigned fashion, regretful.  
‘As stubborn as ever, Ryan,’ Jon says wistfully. ‘At least they haven’t beaten that out of you yet. Now, come on. We’re going.’  
‘Where? What do you mean?’ Ryan asks warily, stepping sideways as Jon goes to grab his arm again.  
‘We gave you a lot of chances to do the right thing, Ryan,’ Brendon says. He shrugs like it’s no big deal, arms folded. Ryan can’t help feeling mildly accomplished for wiping the smile off his face. Spencer continues to chew at his thumbnail.  
‘We said nothing you can’t prevent, Ryan.’  
‘What does that mean? What are you going to do?’ Ryan demands, feeling some of his fear return. That’s what it is that scares him. They’re so unpredictable. With Harmonious Moon, he always knew what they were going to say, how they were going to say it. He tries to struggle when Jon grips onto his arm, but he’s no better a match now than he was last night.  
They escort him all the way back outside, and as soon as they get onto the street the first thing he sees is the Taxi. He stops dead, stomach churning in apprehension.  
‘I’m not going in the car again.’  
‘It’s a Taxi,’ Brendon reminds, irritably, and Jon sighs, but reluctantly stops too.  
‘Tell me this, puppet boy,’ he starts: his voice even, unreadable. ‘What’s the furthest you’ve ever walked?’  
From the front door to the gate, Ryan thinks, or from one room to the next. He doesn’t know which is further so he hesitates.  
‘Wrong answer,’ Jon says, before he has a chance to explain it properly. Jon know both distances himself anyway; Ryan was just hoping he might have forgotten. They all know the Harmonious Moon grounds as well as he does. It’s not as if he could just make something up.  
‘We better talk to Plankton tomorrow,’ Spencer says hesitantly. ‘The Taxi won’t last much longer on the fuel we have.’  
Jon agrees with a nod of his head, and Spencer reluctantly returns to the driver’s seat.  
Ryan tries to fight, but he has both Brendon and Jon forcing him into the back-seat. He would try to get straight out again, but Brendon holds onto him until they drive off, so he doesn’t get a chance. His only hope is that they run out of fuel on the way. He doesn’t even know where they’re going.  
‘Where are you taking me?’  
‘To the harbour,’ Brendon says lightly, no specific emotion coming through in his face or words. He keeps one hand ready, fingers twitching. Maybe he thinks Ryan would still jump out while they were moving.  
‘Why?’  
‘Just wait and see.’  
Harmonious Moon would never have turned on Ryan like this. He swallows nervously, and turns his attention back to the window. There are far more people milling about the cobbled streets in the grey morning light, and Spencer’s driving is distinctly slower for it. They say they’re his friends, they say they’re rescuing him. They can’t save him when they’re the ones he’s afraid of.  
When Spencer eventually pulls up at the edge of the harbour, Jon and Brendon tie Ryan’s hands behind his back before they drag him out. He does struggle, mostly to keep up appearances, but it all seems a bit futile now. It’s like a nightmare, but for the first time in years there’s a clear distinction between the dreaming and waking worlds. He’s definitely awake, and for the first time in years he wishes he wasn’t. Things had changed at Harmonious Moon recently; he had stopped feeling so safe, so secure. He still told himself he didn’t regret staying. He wants to wake up now and realise the past five years were all a dream. Then they can grow up together, sleep and wake together. He wouldn’t have to have faded out of synch with everyone else, they could have stayed the same.  
It’s just a fantasy. The real Jon, Spencer and Brendon pull him out of the car and into cold reality, out of his head. There are few people about here; due to the cold, the rain-heavy grey clouds, the early hour, Ryan doesn’t know.  
One man sits on a lonely bench, ten or so feet away, smoking a pipe. But his eyes are directed out to the restless sea. He can’t help.  
Spencer and Brendon step away, so Jon alone can back Ryan right up to the harbour edge. The surface feels uneven beneath his feet, unstable. A step more and he would be off the edge; a step more and he’ll fall. The water below is still, dark, unfathomably deep. With his hands tied there’s no way he could save himself, though it’s not as if he can swim anyway. One move and he’s done for. But that was no doubt their intentions when they took him here.  
‘Go on, jump,’ Jon says calmly, gesturing vaguely with his head. ‘I dare you.’  
Ryan shakes his own head feebly, staring down at his shoes. ‘I don’t want to.’  
‘Funny that,’ Jon replies; narrowing his eyes slightly. ‘You were all spirit a moment ago. What changed?’  
‘Well I was stupid, wasn’t I?’ Ryan says meekly. He wants to struggle, but he’s afraid Jon will let go, and he’d most certainly die if he did. He might as well back down if that’s what they want from him. ‘I’m sorry.’  
He thinks he’s doing the right thing, too used to giving in and apologising. Jon’s response is unexpected, unhappy.  
‘I don’t want you to be sorry!’ he exclaims, frustrated, almost upset. ‘This isn’t to make you give up; it’s to make you think straight!’  
‘Sorry,’ Ryan says again, without thinking.  
‘This is what I mean, this is what’s changed. This is what they’ve done to you,’ Jon sighs, sounding defeated. ‘You’re so broken. Old Ryan would have knocked my teeth down my throat if I’d pushed him this close to water. You hate water! What’s wrong with you?’  
‘My hands are tied,’ Ryan says truthfully. ‘If I struggle you might let go.’  
Jon seems irritated by the statement. He grits his teeth. ‘Fine, pretend you don’t get my point. Why don’t you pick a side?’  
‘Your side, I’m not your side,’ Ryan replies obediently, which just riles Jon further.  
‘I don’t want you to say it; I want you to mean it!’  
Ryan bites his lip anxiously. He was afraid they would say that, and he’s not a good liar. He doesn’t say anything for a moment.  
‘I thought so,’ Jon says. He loosens his grip a little bit. Ryan panics.  
‘Stop, stop it! Don’t let me go, please!’ He thinks about their childhood, and how he never thought one day he’d have to beg Jon not to push him into the harbour over a difference of opinions.  
The pathetic display of distress doesn’t sway Jon’s expression at all, but Spencer’s eyes flicker guiltily. Brendon stands at his side, fingers twitching, face unreadable.  
‘I’m not going to push you, but I’m not going to let you go until you pick a side,’ Jon says. He loosens his other hand slightly. He sees Ryan’s expression, and then tilts his head, reconsidering. ‘Well, I might push you.’  
‘Jon…’ Spencer starts hesitantly. He shifts onto the other foot. Ryan knows Jon’s playing with him, he wouldn’t really kill him. But his mind races even faster; trying to come up with a truthful answer, the right answer.  
‘Ryan?’ Jon prompts, ignoring Spencer. ‘It’s a simple question.’  
Ryan doesn’t know what to say. He wants to just agree, be taken away from the edge to discuss it later. As much as they want him too, he can’t just hate Harmonious Moon, it isn’t that simple. He can’t just switch his loyalties back to them after all this time, he doesn’t trust them yet. They grew up inseparable, but when they left him, the orphanage stayed consistent, stayed there. It stayed safe. The fact that Jon is using his worst fear against him warps the pros and cons out of proportion entirely. He’s confused by his own opinions; he doesn’t know what he wants.  
‘I don’t… I can’t …’  
‘What? Can’t what?’  
‘Jon,’ Spencer says again, warningly, and this time Brendon says it with him.  
‘Both of you, shut up,’ Jon snaps. He shakes Ryan slightly. ‘Pick a side now, or I’ll push you.’  
‘Alright, stop it, Jon!’ Spencer exclaims. ‘Even if he comes up with an answer, it’s not going to be in his right mind, so why are you even trying?’  
Jon pointedly ignores him. Ryan knows he won’t really push him. He wouldn’t, yet he still panics inside. He’s frantically trying to come up with the right answer. Perhaps five years has changed Jon more than Ryan knows, perhaps he really would push him. At least it would be over quickly. At least, then, he wouldn’t have to make a choice.  
‘Jon.’ Brendon’s mask of indifference suddenly breaks. ‘This is stupid, it’s pointless. He hasn’t seen us in five years, and then we turn up in the middle of the night, deceive him, abduct him, threaten him. Of course he doesn’t trust us, and he’s as stubborn as you are anyway. Let him go!’  
Jon ignores him too. He continues to look steadily at Ryan, completely composed, waiting for an answer. They would argue like this so often in the old days. Then it would get to a point where Jon would give up answering Ryan, give up listening to Brendon and Spencer trying to stop them. He would just fold his arms and wait for Ryan to tell him he was right. Ryan hated doing it, but sometimes he would give in, just to break the infuriating silence. Jon could always tell when he was lying. He would snap, he would reprimand sarcastically, sometimes he continued his oath of silence all the way until the next morning. It all depended on his mood. On rare occasions, they would both back down, or both fight until they were reduced to laughter. That’s one thing about Jon, he reacts to things Ryan does, things he says. Sometimes, when he was really angry, Ryan would argue with the staff. They would all give him the same simpering smile. “Yes, you’re right, Ryan,” they would say, but they didn’t mean it. He could see why Jon hated it. He didn’t want to be agreed with, he wanted an answer. A real answer.  
It’s not much to hold on to, but it makes him smile for a fleeting moment.  
‘Your side,’ he says again, firmly. ‘I pick your side. I don’t trust you yet, but I did once. It’s something to work towards.’  
Jon grins. ‘There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?’  
Ryan doesn’t answer yet, doesn’t relax until Jon has pulled him well away from the edge again, accompanied by sighs of relief from the others.  
They instantly go to untie his hands and Ryan just stands numbly and lets it wash over him. His legs take a few steps further away from the water without his consent, he shakes his hands free. He feels light headed, detached from reality. He’s finding it strangely difficult to hear, sound muffled and out of synch. His hands barely have enough strength to ball into fists, but with the aid of an adrenalin rush he swings round and punches Jon in the face.  
Normality resumes.  
‘Jesus Christ, Ryan!’ Brendon exclaims. He stands helplessly for a moment, suddenly snorting with laughter. It’s a confused, relieved sound. He doesn’t seem to know what to think.  
‘You deserved that, Jon,’ Spencer says, dazed. He runs a hand through his hair. ‘You didn’t tell us you were going to threaten to kill him. That wasn’t part of the plan!’  
‘I was improvising,’ Jon protests. He spits, blood and saliva dripping decoratively from his bottom lip. ‘And it worked. Don’t give me that look.’  
Brendon pats him on the back, perhaps forgiveness. Perhaps he didn’t really care in the first place though. Spencer manages to laugh as well after a moment. Maybe Jon just does this. Ryan stands a few paces away, arms wrapped around himself, uncertain, dizzy. He doesn’t know what to think, but when they beckon, he follows, almost without thinking. It’s how he was brought up.


	6. Fireside Tale

The four of them head back to the Taxi, followed by the watchful eyes of the fisherman on the nearby bench; a slightly amused expression on his bearded face.  
‘Here again, Jon?’ he calls over, a sort of greeting. Jon laughs, momentarily cheerful again.  
‘Just breaking in the new boy, Joe!’ he calls back. Maybe it really is his way. Maybe Ryan’s just one of the many they’ve kidnapped and brought down to the harbour to reason with.  
‘Where’s your pretty friend, Carolyn?’ Joe asks. Brendon visibly tenses in Ryan’s peripheral vision, pace quickens. Jon doesn’t seem to notice. He graciously answers Joe’s question.  
‘She couldn’t come today, but I’ll tell her you said hello.’  
‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ Brendon mutters, though Joe can’t hear, and Jon ignores it. ‘Couldn’t she have died during the rescue mission or something?’  
‘You do that,’ Joe replies, with a nod of agreement. Jon grins, waves, carries on to the car without breaking his stride. Ryan doesn’t ask until the engine starts.  
‘Carolyn?’  
‘You know her already,’ Brendon sighs, and he bites his lip. ‘I suppose she’s my alter ego.’  
‘People don’t like telling us things. We could be anyone, they don’t trust us,’ Jon says. He glances back at Brendon. ‘Carolyn on the other hand, they don’t mind confiding in. It’s very useful. You should ask her how she does it sometime.’  
‘Shut up, Jon…’ Brendon sighs, turns away, eyes directed blankly at the window.   
‘What did Joe withhold from you?’ Ryan asks. His eyes dance uncertainly from Brendon to Jon.  
‘We were asking him about Harmonious Moon,’ Spencer supplies. ‘He’s lived here longer than anyone, so we assumed he’d know something. He said he’d never heard of the place, and we thought he was lying.’  
‘Then along comes pretty little Carolyn, all set to entice the information out of him,’ Jon says jauntily. Brendon thumps his head against the window, shudders.  
Spencer smiles, almost sympathetic. ‘You’re so dramatic, Brendon.’  
Brendon flings an arm up against the glass, sighing theatrically, sending himself up. ‘Then why must you tease me so?’  
Ryan looks back and forth between the three of them then decides they need prompted. ‘So what happened, with Joe I mean?’  
‘Nothing happened,’ Jon says. He almost laughs. ‘He was telling the truth. He’d never heard of the place.’   
‘Why were you asking him about Harmonious Moon anyway?’ Ryan asks. Jon shakes his head.  
‘We asked everyone. It’s not as if we just abandoned you. It took us five years to gather enough information for a rescue plan to work. I was pretty sure we only had one chance to get in and out in one piece; it had to be perfect.’  
‘But… why? I could have escaped with you the first time, and yet I chose not to. Why did you think I’d want to be rescued?’  
‘Everyone at Harmonious Moon wants to be rescued, Ryan,’ Jon says, his tone still uncharacteristically upbeat. ‘They maybe don’t all know it, but they do. You were just the priority.’  
‘So you’re going to rescue everyone?’ Ryan says disbelievingly. Jon opens his mouth, doubtless to correct him, to explain. Spencer interrupts instead.  
‘Don’t let’s go into it all yet,’ he persuades. ‘It’ll just complicate things.’  
Jon doesn’t argue, so Ryan doesn’t ask.   
‘Where are we going now?’  
‘Home,’ Brendon says. He smiles, still subdued but regaining warmth. Ryan nods. It’s not home to him, but it’ll do for now. Anything but the car, he thinks. They don’t drive fast, but the road is as bumpy, as unsettling as the night before.   
‘You look pale,’ Brendon remarks as the pull up by the old house again. Ryan manages a snort of weak laughter.  
‘I thought I was always pale.’  
‘Yes, true,’ Brendon says. He seems to have lost his sarcastic edge. Ryan isn’t sure if he misses it or not.  
Ryan steps back on the street with a brave face, legs held extra rigidly for fear of falling. He feels sick, dizzy, overall uneasy, though he tries not to let it show. Brendon draws up at his side as they approach the door together.   
‘You do get used to it eventually,’ he says. ‘The car.’  
‘It’s a Taxi,’ Jon calls, over his shoulder. Brendon pulls a face behind his back, and looks back at Ryan, who’s still just standing uselessly, trying to find his balance.  
‘You alright?’ Brendon asks. It seems like an enormous question, so Ryan just nods, uncertain what Brendon really wants to hear.  
‘I’m fine.’ The answer is as heavy with unspoken meaning as the question, and so Brendon nods just as non-committally.   
‘We’ll need to get the fire going again,’ Spencer says, and Jon agrees, the two of them suddenly caught up in their own conversation. They walk off ahead, and Brendon hooks his arm around Ryan’s, locking them together.  
‘Come on,’ he says, half smiling. ‘It’s not that far.’  
Ryan is suddenly taken back to their childhood again, that honeymoon period of he and Brendon’s friendship, before Jon got his claws in. Jon and Spencer were his friends first; Jon probably knew him better than anyone back then, but he liked having Brendon all to himself. He liked having someone to back him up in an argument, someone to talk to when Jon was being overbearing and Spencer was being distant. Someone to link arms with and wander down the long, eerie corridors with when Jon wouldn’t do it. Before the plot to escape, and the discord and the great divide, Brendon was all Ryan’s, and Ryan was all Brendon’s, and nothing else mattered so much. Ryan had forgotten feeling like that, and he wonders if Brendon has too. He seems so different now, and yet this moment, the linking of arms, the sympathy without conditions – it’s almost like the old days.  
‘I think I missed you,’ Ryan says, without meaning to. Squeezing his arm, Brendon says,  
‘I think I missed you too.’  
They wander back inside the building together, finding Jon and Spencer on their knees, building a fire.   
‘Brendon, put Ryan down and give us a hand,’ Jon says, without looking up. ‘And Ryan, go sit down somewhere. We have a story to tell.’

The Taxi was the last step they had to take before coming to get him. They stole it about a week ago from its drunken driver, which Jon said didn’t really count as stealing because he would have killed himself, and his unfortunate passenger, driving in that state anyway. And every day before that, they had been trying to gather as much information about Harmonious Moon as they could. That’s where Joe came in.  
Brendon’s smiles fades again at the mention of Joe. Jon sighs.  
‘Don’t give me that look. You always give me that look.’  
Martyred, Brendon says, ‘It’s a look of resentment. Carolyn was _your_ idea.’  
The sentiment of Brendon’s words take Ryan back to his childhood again. He sees skinny little Brendon, in his dresses and with his shoulder-length hair. Then he sees Jon, and Jon’s general disgust at the whole situation. “They might have forced him to pretend to be a girl forever,” he had said. “That’s just the disturbed kind of thing I would expect from this place.”. The fact that they’ve gone full circle, and Jon’s doing exactly what he said he despised the orphanage for is funny in a way, and Ryan laughs, despite himself. The others turn to look at him, curiously.  
‘What are you laughing at?’  
‘Nothing,’ he says. He can save it to win an argument sometime. ‘Sorry, go on.’  
‘Yes, do go on,’ Brendon agrees, sarcastically. ‘Don’t let’s talk about Joe ever again.’   
‘Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,’ Jon says, Brendon pulls a face.   
‘I don’t dislike dressing as a woman. I just dislike playing around old men like Joe, who more often than not have no idea what we’re talking about.’  
‘They aren’t _always_ old,’ Jon argues. Brendon raises an eyebrow.  
‘But they are most of the time.’  
‘Don’t let’s go through this again,’ Spencer interrupts, sighing. ‘We were in the middle of something.’  
There’s a library in town, privately owned by a man named Patrick Stump. The word on the street is that he apparently used to work at Harmonious Moon, but so the story goes, he left under mysterious circumstances.  
‘You may have heard us mention him before, Ryan,’ Jon says, but Ryan shakes his head.  
‘You have,’ Spencer prompts. ‘It’s just that I always call him Plankton.’  
‘Why?’ Ryan asks. He knows he’s inhibiting the flow of their story, because Jon starts to look impatient. Spencer answers for him.  
‘Because he has a weak character, and he can’t swim against the current. You understand?’ he adds, and Ryan just nods dumbly. Puppet Boy, Plankton. They always have some clever explanation, but that doesn’t justify the unkindness of it. Ryan feels half sorry for Patrick already, even though they’ve never met.  
‘Weak, yes,’ Jon says. ‘But also useful. So anyway…’  
Brendon, Jon and Spencer hounded Patrick to tell them what they wanted to know about the orphanage, until he eventually grew tired and banned them from coming to his library. This was the beginning of Carolyn; who was originally meant to be their voice, someone who wasn’t banned, someone to talk for them. The seducing was a spur of the moment decision.  
Brendon interrupts to shudder at the memory, but this time the other two ignore him.  
The story continues with Jon and Spencer suddenly turning up in the middle of the seducing, and tying Patrick up. They now have adequate material for blackmail, considering his wife and all. This time Patrick has no choice but to tell them everything they want – and he says all they need to know is written down in his book.   
‘He’d been writing this journal since he started working there. Every day, adding a bit more, all the way up until the incident. He finished it after he left, so he could uncover all the secrets they kept from the public. But what he didn’t know was that no member of the Harmonious Moon staff is ever really allowed to leave. They keep tabs on you until the day you die. And when they found out what he was going to do, they weren’t very happy,’ Jon pauses mid-sentence to smile triumphantly at Ryan. ‘Do you know what the Harmonious Moon staff did, Ryan? They made him burn every copy he owned. That’s the sort of thing only a guilty man does. No one would do that unless they had something to hide. It so happens though, Patrick managed to save half a manuscript which he had kept hidden under the floorboards for years. It has everything we could have ever wanted to help us rescue you. Map and all. And that’s not even counting what else we found out…’  
Jon hesitates again, his eyes glittering excitedly. ‘Do you want to know why he quit his job there, Ryan? Do you want to know what they’ve been trying to keep from us, from everyone?’  
To be entirely honest, Ryan doesn’t want to know. He has a headache. His stomach is still churning from the car journey and general nerves after the episode at the harbour. It’s not so simple coming down after something like that. Despite the fact everything only seems to be dawning on him now, he nods to Jon. He feels like he’s been in a car his whole life and it’s suddenly picked up speed and turned itself towards the nearest wall. The mental image is so vivid, that Ryan can’t help flinching, because he suddenly feels like he’s about to crash. Even Jon can’t ignore it.  
‘What’s wrong?’  
‘Nothing,’ Ryan lies. It’s become his default word, the easiest answer. Jon frowns, thoughtfully like he understands.  
‘This treatment, Ryan, what was it?’  
Ryan shakes his head. It hurts to do so, but he can’t find words fast enough. ‘I don’t know…’  
‘But it was every day?’  
Ryan nods, it’s easier than replying. Jon leans forward, tips Ryan’s head up. He shrugs.  
‘I can only assume this is some sort of withdrawal. It’s probably best to sleep it off.’  
‘What, now…?’ Ryan asks. He’s so tired of sleeping. ‘It’s the middle of the afternoon.’  
‘It doesn’t matter, go to bed,’ Jon says, firmly. It’s an order now. And Ryan’s been brought up to obey orders. He nods dejectedly and does as Jon tells him, followed closely by his friend’s uncertain eyes. It’s not that he even cares that much about the end of the story. More than that he’s afraid he’ll wake up and forget the feeling of understanding. It’s happened before. He could wake tomorrow morning and feel completely different from the way he does now. They might have to re-enact the day again, right from the beginning. It would sound stupid if he told them. They wouldn’t understand.   
He forgets things too easily these days. He doesn’t want to, but he does. But they can’t help him this time, so he does as they tell him and falls asleep.  
*  
Ryan wakes up in an unfamiliar place. The bedding is course and scratchy where it brushes his exposed skin; the air cold and musty. By opening one eye he can tell he’s on ground level which isn’t the way he usually sleeps. If he isn’t at Harmonious Moon, then where is he?  
Wherever it is, he’s suddenly aware that he’s not alone. He can hear breathing, feel breathing. He scrambles quickly to his feet, vision spinning. His hands hesitantly press against the sides of his head, in an attempt to stop everything shifting in and out of focus before his eyes. He still doesn’t know where he is.  
There are three other boys sleeping where he was. One of them has a pale, peaceful face, with light coloured hair. The second one is slightly tanned, with unkempt dark hair. The third is the smallest, with peachy skin and floppy dark hair. Ryan knows them. Or he thinks he does.  
That’s Spencer, that’s Jon, that’s Brendon. They’re friends, he thinks. Or are they? He remembers something about a Taxi, being held over the edge of the harbour, forced at knife point over a stone wall. They kidnapped him. Did they? The memories are fuzzy and confusing. The thing he remembers them better for is abandoning him when they were all orphans together, back at Harmonious Moon. He can remember Harmonious Moon. That’s his home. That’s where he should be. Whatever the reason for him being here, he’s sees no reason why he should stay.  
Ryan picks up his feet and tries to rearrange his muddled thoughts as he makes for the way out. There is indeed a Taxi parked outside on the cobbled street, fitting with his loose memories of the present. The surrounding buildings look vaguely recognisable, but he still doesn’t know where he is, so he just chooses the direction that feels best and follows his instincts away from his kidnappers. He knows where he wants to go, but he can’t be sure this is the way to get there. All he really knows is better out here than in there.  
There are other people he knows; people he can trust. The tired looking woman, the one in charge. The bossy one with blonde hair. He knows them. Their names are Charlotte and Sally. Then there’s Nancy and Dr Skinner, and a whole host of others. He’s known them for a long time. Then there’s the girl, the one he’s only known more recently. The pretty one with thick dark hair and nice eyes. He likes her, and yet he doesn’t really know why, because she doesn’t really like him back. Or does she? He can remember being outside with her, the sun coming through the trees, or the moon reflecting in her eyes. She kissed him once, out in the dead of night. Or did she? Now he thinks about it he’s known her for a long, long time. He can see her as a little girl, grinning and holding his hand, her hair flying.  
Melissa, that’s her name.  
No… Carolyn? He can’t remember who they are, if they’re the same person. If they’re someone else all together. Maybe he made her up, yet he feels he’s known her too well and for too long to have done so.  
He must have known his kidnappers for a long time too. He can remember times spent together. Jon always argues with him, but he does it back, and he must be the one starting it some of the time. Jon always wins, because he’s always proved right in the end. Or so he thinks anyway.   
_‘Your parents aren’t ever going to come and find you, Ryan. It’s a lie to keep you happy. Why do you let it work?’_ he says. But the others tell him that’s not true. Ryan, that’s his name. He believes them over Jon most of the time. And yet his parents never did come for him, so in a sort of twisted way Jon won that argument. He was proved right again.   
Spencer didn’t ever say things like that, but he did sometimes agree with Jon and he told Ryan not everything the others said was right.   
_‘You can’t believe everything people tell you. Otherwise you’ll never be able to make your own mind up,’_ he says sometimes. He smiles more often than Jon does, but in a nervous, uncertain way.   
Brendon splits into several people in Ryan’s mind. Sometimes in lipstick, sometimes in a dress. He’s sharp and sarcastic, and he always takes Jon’s side, Spencer’s side. They’re all on the same side, the opposite one. They want Ryan to agree with them. There’s one thing Ryan can always remember them saying.   
_‘But it doesn’t matter that nobody else cares about you, because we do.’_  
It does matter to Ryan. Or it used to at the time. Jon tells him it’s pathetic to cling onto a promise Harmonious Moon made him when he was a child.   
_‘It’s not true. You stay here, and you’ll be here forever.’_  
The doctors often tell him the opposite, but Jon’s always right in the end.   
‘Ryan!’  
Is this all part of his imagination, or is that really Jon calling him right now? Ryan turns slowly round to look back up the street towards the voice. It’s not just Jon. It’s all three of them, distant, flickering. He blinks, trying to see things in focus again, but it’s not that easy.  
‘Ryan?’ they call again, and then they all tip sideways along with the whole street and are obliterated into darkness.  
*  
‘What were you thinking?’  
Ryan looks up from his chained hands again, glaring at them. ‘I told you, I wasn’t thinking.’  
They sit in a semi-circle around the resurrected fire, bemused, betrayed.   
‘I thought we could trust you not to try and escape. I thought we’d gotten through to you.’  
‘You can, I don’t know what I was doing, I said!’ Ryan protests, sick of explaining himself. They don’t understand. He thought he was dreaming, he thought he was hallucinating. He was thinking: that was all. Sometimes when he thought about things too hard they became real, and that’s what he thought was happening. They don’t know how confusing it is, how exhausting. He would tell them, but they wouldn’t understand. At least Harmonious Moon understood. They may have been the cause of it, but at least they understood.  
‘I can’t explain. I thought I was still asleep.’ He sighs irritably. ‘It’s confusing.’  
‘So you weren’t trying to escape?’ Brendon says. His arms are folded, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t believe it. Ryan bites his lip.  
‘So you _were_ trying to escape?’ Jon prompts, and Ryan shakes his head.  
‘I don’t know. I don’t what I was doing, I told you already,’ he snaps. ‘But why don’t you ask me again? That seems to be getting you somewhere.’  
‘Oh, resorting to sarcasm now, are we?’ Brendon says. He grins. Ryan gives him a tired look.  
‘Well it’s starting to rub off on me.’  
‘Right,’ Jon says, suddenly, decisively. He has an absorbed, determined expression on his face as he gets up. The others watch and frown.  
‘What are you doing?’  
‘Looking for Plankton’s – sorry, Patrick Stump’s manuscript. Ryan’s not convinced by us, obviously, so we’ll let him read the truth for himself.’  
‘I never said I didn’t believe you…’ Ryan says, unconvincingly. They don’t listen to him anyway, why bother arguing. He lets Jon start digging around in the nearest box. If they want him to read, he’ll read it. Predictably, they aren’t about to give him a choice.


	7. Disaloneous Scream

_Patrick Stump’s Journal. Twenty-one years ago,_

_January 11th_

_I think we’ve made a mistake. Eliza said we really ought to stop calling it an orphanage in front of the children. She said the word was crude and insensitive, and they would make assumptions that simply weren’t true. I don’t see the point in lying to them, I didn’t at the time. I tried to talk to Charlotte, and tell her I thought Eliza was twisting things and making it worse. But Charlotte was on Eliza’s side, which I should have expected. She said that it wasn’t really a lie, because they weren’t really orphans. She said all they were doing was giving the children hope, because one day they might be adopted or their family really would come and claim them. I could see where they were coming from, but I still don’t like it. It starts off as a harmless comfort story, but when they get older they start to realise the truth themselves, which seems unfair. It’s not how I would do it, but then I have little authority round here. I think I shall quit one of these days._

_January 12th_

_We have definitely made a mistake. There was an incident this morning, involving that boy, Peter. He’s been at Harmonious Moon longer than anyone, for as long as I have worked here. He’s part of the family. I always thought he would have been happy to accept his fate, and perhaps start working here himself eventually, but now it’s too late._  
_I think I read somewhere that his family were all murdered. As far as I remember Dr Skinner spotted it in the papers not long after Peter arrived. Everyone seemed to treat him with extra care because of it, and even I started to tiptoe around the truth for fear traumatizing him. I believe every child has a right to know the truth, but some things are better left unsaid. It was stupid of me. I think I made it worse. Eliza had of course told him right from the start that one day his family would come back to save him, a sentiment I obviously rejected. It’s complete fantasy for most of them, which is why I’ve always seen it as a bit deceitful, but this time I think she overstepped the mark. I didn’t argue more at the time, because I didn’t want to be the one telling him what really happened. Only a week or so ago, did I realize the whole truth._  
_Dr Skinner is a good friend of mine, one who shares my general views on this place, and because of that they sometimes keep things from him as well. He came rushing down the hall last week, something in his hand, keeping his voice hushed._  
_‘You’ll never believe this, Patrick,’ he started, a little gleefully, I thought. He was holding the long faded newspaper article on Peter’s family, and I sighed and carried on walking. Did he think I didn’t know already?_  
_‘I can believe it, Vincent, I always did,’ I told him, but he shook his head and told me to listen._  
_‘There’s something else, something we have carelessly overlooked.’_  
_By this time, I was listening properly, and on close inspection of the article, I did indeed notice something new. After all these years of careful wording and cheerful reassuring, it turned out Peter must have always known they were dead. He was there at the time, the paper said. He was the only survivor of the tragic incident._  
_I was incensed. I went straight up to Eliza’s study, Vincent close on my heels. I asked her what on earth she’d been thinking lying to the boy all along, when he already knew what really happened. I told her it was perverse and corrupted and that she had to correct her mistake before things became even more twisted in his mind. God knows what he thought already. She ordered us both away, furious with the intrusion. I felt as if I should do something, but I didn’t know what. Everyone else was completely loyal to her. What’s more, most of them agreed with the way she did things._  
_So I didn’t do anything, and this morning Peter himself confronted her. He seemed calm at first. He told her he didn’t blame her for lying to him, because she was doing it with good intentions. He said he had always had a feeling his family was dead really, but that he might just have been dreaming. He said he didn’t mind anymore, and all he wanted to know was the truth. I was impressed by his maturity. I would have been enraged._  
_Eliza may be in charge, but she is a foolish woman. Even though he was giving her a perfect chance to reverse her wrongdoings without consequences, she acted shocked by the question, downright offended. She denied everything, telling him she would never lie like that. She said lying was a sin, what did he take her for? She was so angry, that he became understandably angry too and they had a huge fight about it. I wanted to defend him, but I sensed my job might be in a precarious position already, and I didn’t want to lose it just yet. It is all I have._

_January 13th_

_Peter is gone. We awoke this morning to an empty bed and an open window. I cannot say I blame him. Eliza is refusing to take any responsibility. Perhaps I don’t care about losing my job after all._

_January 14th_

_I don’t think Peter is coming back. Why the others are still holding out hope, I don’t understand._

_February 18th_

_I was mistaken. Peter is back again, but I am certain there is something wrong. He acts differently, though he says he holds no grudge. I do not like to think that we have done this to him. Eliza has been as welcoming and friendly as she always is. Perhaps she feels some guilt after all. Peter says he forgives her, though he asks us not to call him Peter anymore. Since leaving, he has started to go by the name of ‘Disaloneous Scream’ which fills me with a great sense of dread. I dared ask him why and he said he is a different person now._  
_I really must leave one of these days._

_February 20th_

_I was right. I was right to be wary, right to contradict Eliza, right all along. Eliza is no longer here, so I cannot tell her she was wrong. She is dead. Peter killed her. No, Peter is not here either. Disaloneous Scream killed her, and now he is dead too._  
_I had a premonition that something bad was going to happen that night he came back. I awoke to noises, and am afraid to say that once I realised what might be happening, I hid in one of the cupboards in the hall. I did not witness much of the slaughter through the crack in the door, but there are few of us left now. It is only me, Charlotte, Dr Skinner, Janet, Nancy Harper, the resident therapist, and a young woman called Sally, who I don’t know very well. They say Disaloneous didn’t harm any of the children, and only the staff who got in his way. Eliza was all he wanted, and once she was dead, he killed himself._  
_I fully intend to leave as soon as I can. Charlotte has appointed herself in charge, and as her ideals were always so similar to Eliza’s, I don’t see a welcome change in the near future. Perhaps I shall write a book about this place. I think people deserve to know what happened here._

_February 21st_

_The rest of the Harmonious Moon Staff have sworn me to secrecy. I agreed, only because I feared they wouldn’t let me leave otherwise, but I don’t intend to keep the promise. I suppose they don’t want ruin their reputation. I thought an event like this would make them realise what they have been doing wrong, but it has only made them worse, if anything. Charlotte insists on the same lies, the same routine. She will not tell the children what happened. I can see what she’s trying to do, but I don’t agree with it. They are all obsessing over it unhealthily, so determined to understand why Peter did what he did, that they aren’t thinking straight. Even my friend Vincent has been changed by what happened. He is no longer the same anymore. I really must leave._  
_Perhaps I shall finish this journal instead of writing a book. I cannot keep this to myself forever._

_February 22nd_

_They will not let me leave. I have always thought it would be my choice, but things are different now. I suppose they think just maybe I will come back and make an attempt at genocide like Peter did. Sometimes I am tempted. I will escape this place one day._  
_I have lost my only friend Dr Skinner to this insanity. He will no longer listen to reason._

_February 28th_

_They are letting me go tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll ever be entirely free of them. I suppose they don’t trust me._  
_They have started running tests on some of the children, but only the quiet, serious ones like Peter, the ones who believe them the most. They have given it a name, as if it’s just an illness they can prevent with the right medication. They don’t seem to realise it’s their own fault. They don’t seem to realize that with their lies, and their misleading actions, they corrupted him. I don’t say any of this anymore. Charlotte is not worth speaking to. They call this disease Disaloneous Scream Syndrome, DSS for short. It amazes me, their ignorance._  
_I shall be rid of them one day._

It takes Ryan a long time to read through the whole thing. Sometimes he goes back and reads the same sentence over and over again, finding it hard to comprehend. He stares at the faded pages long after he’s read the last line. Jon eventually leans over, pulling the manuscript out of his limp hands.  
‘Ryan?’  
Ryan blinks, his vision blurring slightly. He shakes his head, unable to think of a single thing to say. The other three sit back, watching him expectantly.  
‘Ryan?’  
He looks up at them, nibbling his thumbnail. ‘What if I don’t believe you?’ he asks. ‘You could have made it all up.’  
Jon doesn’t even look irritated. He just shakes his head. ‘Give it up, Ryan. You know that’s not true. You just don’t want to believe it, which is understandable.’  
Ryan lets his mind wander for a moment, thinking about how Jon now has so much reason to crow triumphantly, because he was right all along – and yet he isn’t. He almost seems sorry. Ryan isn’t sure if he wants to be pitied. He wistfully thinks about the old days, when everything was so simple, and he could argue because he believed his own point. Now he doesn’t have a choice anymore. Jon’s always right in the end. He looks at them properly, and shrugs.  
‘What do you want me to say? You were right. They were lying; they were keeping things from us. You win.’  
Jon sighs. Brendon sighs. Spencer sighs. Why is Ryan not surprised? They’re never happy.  
‘It’s not a case of winning.’  
‘It’s a case of proving me wrong,’ Ryan interrupts. Brendon rolls his eyes. Spencer bites his lip. Jon laughs, but not cruelly. It’s almost as if he understands.  
‘Well, tough luck,’ he says, lightly teasing. ‘I’m always right.’  
Ryan shrugs dejectedly. ‘So what now? We stay here? I can’t go back.’  
‘No,’ Jon contradicts. He sounds serious. ‘It’s now entirely up to you. You know as much as we know, it’s your choice. You can stay here with us, or you can burn with Harmonious Moon.’  
Thinking he’s being metaphorical, Ryan smiles, amused by the dramatic phrasing. Brendon and Spencer exchange a glance, and Jon sits back, suddenly triumphant again. They wait, and Ryan feels his smile dying.  
‘You were being serious, weren’t you?’  
Jon nods. ‘It’s the next logical step. Plankton’s all big talk, but he never _did_ anything. We burn Harmonious Moon; we’re all rid of it. I’m afraid to say I would let you burn too.’  
‘That was my childhood,’ Ryan says wistfully, wondering if Jon really would let him burn, or if he’s just trying to make a point.  
‘It was _our_ childhood,’ Brendon corrects. ‘And it wasn’t all so great.’  
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Jon says, remorseless. ‘They changed you, Ryan. Maybe once upon time you could pretend you still thought they were doing it out of the kindness of their hearts, but it’s gone too far now. They need to be stopped. You can’t pretend forever.’  
Ryan would have pretended forever if he’d been given the chance. He thinks about the past five years and the slow realisation that he was slipping out of reality. Deep down he supposes he’s always known something was wrong, but he had long since decided he wanted to live in the dark, innocent and carefree as the rest of the children. He could tell them, but they wouldn’t understand. They would just tell him what they thought he must really be thinking. He might as well save them the trouble of convincing him. He should do what they want.  
‘So what do you need me for?’  
‘The plan falls apart without you, Ryan,’ Jon says, as if it’s obvious. ‘We can’t get in without you.’  
‘Of course,’ Ryan says. He sighs then shrugs. ‘Alright, I better agree.’  
‘You don’t have to,’ Jon tells him, but they both know Ryan doesn’t have a choice. He never does, maybe he never will. Maybe that doesn’t matter.  
‘I’ll do it,’ he says. They all cheer triumphantly around him. Ryan manages to laugh. It’s a forced gesture, but it feels unexpectedly good. Maybe things will get better if he keeps smiling. Perhaps it’s just the heat of the moment, but he feels an almost intermittent spark of determination. He wouldn’t say revenge, but the word does briefly cross his mind. Poor Peter, or Disaloneous Scream, or whoever he was by the end, Ryan thinks. Perhaps they aren’t so dissimilar after all.


	8. Carolyn's Return

Patrick Stump stands behind his desk, in the midst of his cosy front room, overflowing with books and bustling with people. Everywhere he looks there’s someone picking something up of putting something down, and even though they seem perfectly capable of doing it themselves, he appears to be ordering them about. To Ryan’s eyes, he’s middle aged, medium height, medium weight, with neat dirty blond hair and an unsettled expression on his face. He keeps glancing past them, to direct some of the others where to go or what to do – but as Jon confidently leads the others across the polished floorboards, Patrick is forced to pay attention.  
‘What do you want from me now?’ he sighs, addressing Jon and Spencer. Brendon keeps a step behind them, holding Ryan’s arm and trying to look inconspicuous.  
‘We need more fuel, the Taxi’s almost out,’ Jon says, leaning over to put his hands flat on Patrick’s desk.   
‘To start with anyway,’ Spencer adds, and Patrick sighs again, more frustrated this time. He glances quickly behind him, towards one of the doors. ‘Can’t it wait? I’ve got more important things to think about. In case you hadn’t noticed I’m trying to organise a drinks party for tonight.’  
He catches the glint in Jon’s eye, and hastily adds, ‘It’s a book launch, couples only, and you’re _not_ invited.’  
‘Is your wife going?’ Jon asks, and Patrick shakes his head in disbelief. Another quick furtive glance at the door. ‘Yes of course, why wouldn’t she be?’  
Jon dismisses the query with a wave of his hand. ‘Couples only did you say? Maybe I’ll bring Carolyn along, that’s playing by the rules, isn’t it?’  
Patrick’s frowns, and instantly opens his mouth to argue, but the door he was watching suddenly opens and a young woman – who could only really be his wife, judging by everyone’s expressions – steps out and makes her way towards them. She’s quite beautiful. Wavy blonde hair is looped behind her ears and caught in a loose plait over one shoulder. She has grey eyes that sparkle when she smiles at her guilty husband.  
‘Oh dear, it looks as if I picked the wrong moment. Whatever’s the matter, Patrick?’ she asks, almost like she knows. Jon bites his lip as if he wants to laugh, but senses it wouldn’t be appropriate. Spencer and Brendon exchange a glance and an eye roll, so it’s obvious Ryan and Patrick are the only ones confused about what’s going on.  
‘We’re just discussing something about tonight, Loretta,’ Patrick explains, looking a bit panicked. He kisses her cheek briefly, and then carefully steers her in the other direction again. ‘I’ll talk to you about it later, sorry.’  
‘Alright,’ Loretta says, looking bemused. ‘I’ll maybe see you tonight, Jon, Spencer?’  
‘Most definitely,’ Jon assures her, smiling demurely as they watch her go. The second the door closes Patrick turns around and glares at them.  
‘Get out of my house,’ he hisses urgently. ‘You can’t keep doing this to me. I love my wife and I don’t want you spoiling things. Don’t you dare turn up tonight.’  
Jon smiles and steps back. ‘Have the fuel ready and we won’t stay long,’ he says evenly, not lowering his voice at all. ‘Good day, sir.’  
‘Jon, this is serious!’ Patrick calls after him, as they all turn away.  
‘You better do as I ask then,’ Jon trills over his shoulder, and then grins to himself as they step outside again. ‘Piece of cake.’  
‘I think you’re cruel,’ Ryan remarks. The three of them skip ahead of him, down the front steps and onto the street. ‘Especially in front of his wife, it’s unnecessary.’  
‘She’s as two-faced as he is, she doesn’t mind,’ Spencer replies, jovial. He grins. ‘Isn’t that right, Jon?’  
‘Shut up, Spencer,’ Jon calls back good-naturedly, his tone free of any real irritation.  
‘So, she knows about all your deceptive ways? She knows about Carolyn?’ Ryan clarifies and they all nod. He shakes his head, disgusted.  
‘Then she’s as bad as you, deceiving him like that. You’re all terrible.’  
‘She’s too good for him, Ryan. Even you can see that,’ Spencer says. ‘He could have easily refused, Carolyn. But he didn’t, see? We’re not doing any real harm, just rightfully guilt tripping him now and then. You’ve seen the size of his house, he has everything.’  
‘Is that why she stays with him, because he’s rich?’  
‘You’re so bitter, Ryan. This kind of thing happens all the time,’ Jon says. He pauses, sounding slightly wistful. ‘No… she still loves him, even though he’s such a fool. It doesn’t bother her.’  
‘Because you’re her Carolyn substitute?’ Ryan prompts. He’s not that blind. Jon laughs, taps Ryan on the nose.  
‘Curiosity killed the cat. I’m not saying anything.’  
Ryan shakes his head again. ‘You’re worse than I thought.’  
‘It’s not as if it’s serious, Ryan,’ Brendon counters lightly. ‘She loves her husband. Jon’s just smarter and prettier. It’s harmless fun.’  
‘Her words,’ Spencer clarifies, rolling his eyes. Jon laughs at them again.  
‘I’m a catch, what can I say?’  
‘She’s nice, Loretta,’ Brendon remarks. ‘It’s a way of keeping her on our side. She’s useful.’  
‘Justify yourselves as much as you want, I think it’s abominable,’ Ryan says primly, but they just laugh at him again. Perhaps this is what’s like in the real world, he wouldn’t know after all. It seems a depressing thought, all the lies and deceit and casual adultery. What a twisted world we live in, he thinks to himself.  
‘Grow up, Ryan,’ Jon calls back over his shoulder. ‘You have more important things to worry about in your lifetime.’  
*  
The ritual of dressing Brendon as Carolyn took a long time. Ryan sat crossed-legged on the side lines, watching them with understandable wariness. At first they had tried to convince him to go in drag as well, giving them two couples so Patrick couldn’t complain. Ryan refused, not wanting to be a part of their deception. They almost had him convinced at one point, but then he saw the dress he would be wearing – the blue one he met Carolyn in, dark and cinched in, like the uniform he used to see every day. It smelt of Harmonious Moon, and he changed his mind, afraid of the memories and emotions it would bring up. They left him alone after that.  
Brendon seemed reluctant as well, but the others didn’t give him a choice. The first step took the most time, but they had sorted it out early on when the evening was young, and they still had time to argue.  
Brendon said he would wear his jacket; it was cold outside. It made the dress look better, etcetera, etcetera. Jon didn’t like it at all. Spencer was indifferent. They argued for a good half an hour, which was so frustrating to watch that eventually Ryan collapsed onto his side, hands over his ears. It seemed to make them take a step back, realise how ridiculous they were being.   
‘Oh, wear the damn jacket if it makes you happy.’  
‘I will. Thanks. I was always going to, regardless of you.’  
‘Shut up, both of you, let’s just forget it now.’  
‘There, was that so hard? It looks fine.’  
‘Yes, fine. Whatever you say, I don’t care anymore.’  
Ryan dared sit up again, but Jon seemed suddenly conscious of the fact that the dress was too short. Brendon said it wasn’t. Jon said it didn’t even cover his ankles, of course it was too short. Brendon said he wasn’t taking it off, and fortunately Spencer agreed with him.  
Though he wouldn’t have said anything, Ryan was actually on Jon’s side about the dress. It was too short. But then he supposed, after Jon later admitted it, that Carolyn wasn’t supposed to look particularly respectable. She was there to unsettle, to be pretty and persuasive, irresistible. It wasn’t the way Melissa’s very similar outfit looked on her, but she wasn’t like Carolyn. Ryan bit his lip, thinking about her.  
‘Where did you get that dress?’ he asked, and they all turned and glared at him.  
‘What?’  
He shook his head, and mumbled an apology. ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’  
Carolyn’s hair was easy. All Brendon had to do was pin it back, letting a few short strands fall around his face, and then it was done. He did briefly suggest that he could have it loose because he preferred it that way, but Spencer told him to stop trying to start trouble and he shut up. Brendon darkened his eyes with charcoal; it was the only make-up available to them, so there was no argument.  
Finally they laced him fully into the dress, curled a few strands of his hair with spit, blew the charcoal fall-out off his cheekbones, and declared him ready. There was only one thing missing, but they didn’t mention it and Ryan didn’t ask. He looked fine how he was. She looked fine, just a little bit like Brendon still.  
Conversation is minimal once they’re in the Taxi again. The walk to Patrick’s was doable earlier on, but the grey sky finally opened and it’s pouring down.   
‘Plankton said couples only, didn’t he?’ Spencer remarks, after some time.  
‘Yeah,’ Jon agrees. He shrugs. ‘Well, we’ll just have to tell him he can blame Ryan.’  
‘I suppose we’ll just have to go as a boy couple again.’  
‘Yeah, he _loved_ that the last time.’  
‘He shouldn’t throw so many couples parties then, should he? It’s a stupid idea anyway.’  
They bicker mindlessly about Patrick, and Ryan leans his head against the window and tries to concentrate on the sound of the rain. It almost drowns out the noise of the engine, and if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend he’s not in the taxi at all. It isn’t a long journey after all. A moment or two before they pull up, Brendon changes position; pulling the knife out of his boot. Ryan watches him without thinking, curious, uncertain.  
‘What are you looking at?’ Brendon smiles wryly, and Ryan shrugs.   
‘Nothing.’  
‘Like what you see?’ Brendon says, and he strikes a pose on the back-seat. He looks a mix of completely comical, and yet strangely alluring. Ryan shakes his head. Truthfully, he prefers Brendon as Brendon. Carolyn makes him nervous.  
‘You don’t look like you,’ Ryan says. Brendon rolls his shadowing eyes.  
‘That’s the point.’  
‘I know, I just…’ Ryan shrugs. ‘I like you better as you.’  
‘Right,’ Brendon says, and he grins. ‘Thanks I suppose.’  
Then he rolls his sleeve up. His face doesn’t twitch at all as he slides the blade across his unbroken skin. Ryan watches him in horrified fascination, and then turns his head away. He feels sick. Brendon laughs behind his back, and when Ryan looks back, he’s gone.  
Carolyn sits in his place, newly stained mouth, gruesomely red. She dabs ineffectively at her arm for a moment, and then gives up, rolling her jacket sleeve down. She glances sideways to grin at Ryan again, and finally she looks like the girl who forced him over a wall at knife point. He unintentionally relives the memory, unsure about the way he feels sitting next to her. First instinct says run. He’s not sure if he really trusts her yet, even though underneath the make-up it’s just Brendon. But then he’s not sure if he trusts Brendon anymore either.  
‘Ready?’ Carolyn says, stretching her mouth into a rather unnatural smile. He nods, swallowing the bile rising in the back of his throat as the engine goes off.   
‘Sure, why not?’ He knows he doesn’t convince, but she wasn’t looking for the truth.


	9. Blackmail Through Crossdressing

It’s stiflingly hot and noisy in the main room, especially in contrast with the quiet cold street. There are even more people than there were earlier, milling about, talking and laughing and drinking gold liquid from sparkling glasses. His friends look at home after a few moments, despite not fitting in at all. Ryan feels decidedly uneasy.  
‘Right, plan of action,’ Jon starts immediately, scanning the brightly lit room. ‘Carolyn, go find our friend Mr Stump, remind him of his guilt, etcetera. Remember to tell him we need fuel, and Spencer, watch her back and try to keep an eye on Ryan.’  
Though Carolyn makes a face, she nods when Spencer does, and only Ryan feels reason to ask.  
‘What are you doing then, Jon?’  
Jon blinks innocently, and then pats him lightly on the head. ‘You don’t look very well, Ryan, go drink some champagne or something. I’ll see you all later.’  
‘See you,’ Spencer and Carolyn echo mindlessly and then sigh behind his back.  
‘He always leaves us to do his dirty work…’ Spencer mutters. Carolyn laughs and slings an arm round Ryan’s shoulders. She’s distinctly warmer towards him than Brendon is, but Ryan isn’t sure how he feels about affection coming from her.  
‘He’s off to find Loretta, in case you’re interested.’  
‘Oh…’ Ryan says, disinterested, detached. ‘Alright.’  
‘You do still look a bit pale,’ Carolyn remarks, frowning slightly. She suddenly turns round to swipe a half-full glass out of a startled old man’s hand. ‘Drink some of this, you’ll feel better.’  
‘Excuse me, what on earth do you think you’re doing?’ the robbed elder demands, despite Spencer’s profuse apologies. What little hair he has left is completely white, and his movements are stooped and slow. Carolyn still flicks her hair and smiles, simpering.  
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were a table.’ She’s directly mocking him, but somehow with her sultry voice, and her scarlet smile, the old man sees past it. He accepts her meaningless apology graciously, and wanders off again, flattered by the attention.  
Ryan shakes his head. ‘You’re unbelievable.’  
‘It’s what I’m here for, to impress,’ she says, raising the glass triumphantly. ‘Here, have some champagne. That’s why I took it in the first place.’  
‘I don’t want it,’ Ryan says.  
Maybe it’s the party atmosphere, maybe it’s the costume, but something has had a strange effect on Brendon, and he’s so taken over by Carolyn that Ryan is struggling to remember it’s Brendon at all.  
‘You’ll like it,’ Carolyn, Brendon, somebody says. ‘Do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?’  
He’s said that to Ryan before, right before he kissed him. Ryan takes a wary step back.  
‘Are you scared?’ Carolyn asks. Ryan shakes his head.  
‘I just don’t want you to try and seduce me again.’  
She smiles indulgently. ‘As if you’d know if I were.’ She lifts the glass of champagne to her own mouth, and then raises a finger and gently tilts Ryan’s face downwards, so they’re looking right at each other. The room feels suddenly quiet around them, and Ryan doesn’t know what the game is, but he knows he doesn’t want to blink first. He stands still.  
‘Don’t cause a scene, Brendon,’ Spencer says suddenly, and the noise levels rise again, as Ryan snaps out of his trance. ‘Brendon, Carolyn, whoever. We’re here for a reason, remember?’  
‘I know,’ Brendon says, sounding indeed more like Brendon. He smiles at Ryan more innocently, and then hooks an arm around his neck and smacks a kiss on his cheek. ‘I’m only playing around. That’s what Carolyn does best, after all.’  
Ryan wipes his cheek. Spencer rolls his eyes.  
‘Come on, let’s go find Plankton, before he finds Jon.’  
It’s not very difficult. Patrick Stump is once again standing behind his desk, making bright and cheerful small talk with a number of people. He glances sideways when he hears them coming, and then quickly waves his former conversationalists away.  
‘What on earth are you doing here? And why are there three of you, I specifically said couples only!’  
‘Ryan doesn’t count,’ both Spencer and Carolyn protest at the same time, making Ryan feel decidedly odd, like he doesn’t exist anymore. Patrick frowns.  
‘Well, you’re lucky my wife just disappeared. Where’s Jon?’  
‘Oh, he’s here somewhere,’ Carolyn says lightly, making a show of glancing all around her. ‘He won’t be far.’  
‘Well, he better get here right now. I want to talk to him. This is downright blackmail. I want you to leave immediately before you start showing me up again. I will give you your godforsaken fuel tomorrow.’  
Spencer and Carolyn glance at each other. Ryan knows they don’t have enough to get back home. It’s not as if they let Patrick lay down the law anyway.  
‘We’ll go find Jon,’ Spencer says pointedly, taking hold of Ryan’s arm. He smiles innocently at Carolyn, and she shrugs, hitching herself up so she’s sitting on the edge of Patrick’s desk.  
‘Yes, off you go, find Jon,’ she says calmly. Plankton watches her, rubbing his hands together uncomfortably.  
‘You’re just a pest, the lot of you,’ he sighs. ‘Set to taunt me forever. I won’t give in every time. You can come back tomorrow.’  
Spencer pulls Ryan away, leaving Carolyn alone with him.  
‘This could take a while…’ Spencer mutters, biting his lip. He looks at Ryan uncertainly. ‘He’ll wear him down eventually. We should find Jon.’  
‘You think he’s that persuasive?’  
‘Carolyn?’ Spencer asks, and Ryan thinks he’s correcting him.  
‘I meant Jon.’  
‘No, Jon might help. I meant Carolyn; he, she, whichever. I forget sometimes.’ He pauses, gently pushing Ryan away from his side. ‘You should go eat something. I’ll find Jon.’  
Ryan is left, stranded in the hot, overcrowded room, people everywhere. They fill the air with their mindless chatter, sipping champagne, eating nibbles. Men in suits with slick hair look down their noses at him. Women in posh dresses and maroon lipstick eye him up and down, sometimes mystified by his presence, sometimes curious. Older men squint at him through their thick glasses, as if they aren’t sure if he’s really there. A couple of women smile at him sympathetically as they stand at their husband’s sides, lost, disinterested. Perhaps it’s because they understand. Perhaps it’s obvious by his face that he’s only here under great sufferance. Some women smile at him in an entirely different way, but he does is best to avoid eye contact when they do.  
He looks to the table instead, cluttered with empty champagne glasses and half eaten plates of nibbles. He feels somehow duty bound to eat, but he has to force himself to even go near the table, nervous of the people clustered around it, wary of the food itself. At Harmonious Moon food was plain, colourless; sometimes tasteless. It was served up daily with the sole purpose of keeping him alive, he wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. The food here is rich with intense colour and texture. This is food for enjoyment, food for the rich and colourful people surrounding him; food to accompany spirits and stimulating conversation. It isn’t food for him.  
‘Hungry, Ryan?’  
He jumps, he can’t help it. He’s met with grey eyes, sandy blonde hair, pastel lipstick, a smile. Patrick Stumps wife, Loretta. He simpers in return, though it’s a great effort.  
‘How do you know my name?’ he asks, before he thinks about it. She laughs, a happy, carefree sound, full of life.  
‘Jon told me. I’ve heard a lot about you.’  
‘Oh,’ he says, lacking a way to react. He wants to say ‘likewise’, wants to say he’s heard a lot about her too. But he’s a bad liar. His eyes flicker helplessly back to the table. ‘Jon was looking for you.’  
‘Yes.’ She laughs again, amused by the statement. ‘We found each other briefly. He seemed distracted.’  
‘Oh,’ Ryan says again. He struggles, trying to think of something polite. ‘You look nice.’  
‘I’m flattered,’ She smiles, hand over her heart in mock embarrassment. ‘Though I’ll have to let you know I am married.’  
He thinks she’s joking, but he still bites his lip guiltily. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t flirting with you.’  
She laughs at him, though not cruelly. ‘I know, dear. I was teasing you. Do you want something to eat?’  
She’s treating him like a child. He shakes his head. ‘No thank you.’  
‘Are you sure? It’s very good, though I do say so myself.’ She laughs again. Now he feels obligated. There isn’t a polite way of saying looking at it makes him feel sick. He doesn’t want it, but perhaps nobody does. Maybe they’re all just being polite. Loretta’s very charming, light hearted. She’s not forcing him into eating her food. But he finds it difficult to say no to her.  
‘Well, alright then.’ He keeps his hands clenched into fists at his sides because he doesn’t want to touch it. She feeds him out of her hand instead, far more comfortable about the situation than he is. They talk trivially, she talks. He listens and nods, laughs in the right places, a fixed smile on his face. He thinks he’s managing to hide how much effort it is, but after a while the conversation comes to a halt, and she frowns.  
‘You don’t look as if you’re enjoying this, Ryan.’  
He shakes his head as convincingly as he can.  
‘No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m just not used to… this. The lights, the noise…’ he falters, biting his lip. ‘I don’t know how to act. Sorry.’  
‘I can understand,’ she says sympathetically, patting his arm. ‘I won’t keep you any longer.’  
He smiles, easier than he has all evening. She feels like the first genuinely nice person he’s talked to in five years. He wants to tell her, but it would sound stupid, she wouldn’t really understand what he meant. So he thanks her again instead and pushes off through the throng of people. He doesn’t see Spencer or Jon or Brendon, but he’s not looking for them. He stares at the ground, only raising his head when he sees the door handle. He sits on the doorstep outside, appreciating the cold and the quiet. The rain has stopped.  
The door opens behind him eventually, and Carolyn appears, the sound of laughter and conversation floating out behind her. She skips down the first steps and sits down beside him. Ryan doesn’t know why, but his heart flutters and then sinks.  
‘We’ve been looking for you,’ Carolyn says, after a moment. Ryan’s arms are folded over his knees, and he leans his chin on them, shrugging.  
‘Sorry.’  
‘It’s alright,’ she says. ‘Patrick gave in eventually. We got our way.’  
‘That’s good,’ he replies, because that’s what she obviously wants to hear.  
‘Hey,’ Carolyn says, and he sounds like Brendon, so Ryan looks round.  
‘What?’  
‘Nothing,’ she says, and she reaches towards his face, tilting his chin upwards. He lets her, not because he wants to, but because that’s just what he does. He lets people do anything. He let her force him over a wall at knife point; he let her kiss him; he let Loretta feed him, he’s let Jon convince him he wants to burn his own home to the ground, Harmonious Moon, his sanctuary. But even there he let the doctors treat him like a puppet, unquestioningly going through treatment after treatment. He’s so weak willed, he wonders if he has anything left in him anymore; wonders if he has the capacity to do anything by himself anymore.  
Sitting there on the doorstep in the dark, distant music and laughter coming from the closed door behind them, it seems inevitable that something has to happen. He has to do something, make some choice for himself.  
The way Carolyn’s looking at him, the way Brendon’s looking at him, he, she is pitying Ryan. Ryan doesn’t want to be pitied anymore. He leans in and kisses her, kisses him. Even though her lips are sticky and salty with blood, he puts all thoughts of Carolyn out of his head, and kisses Brendon. It makes it better somehow.  
Brendon kisses him back, and Ryan wishes he could forget the rest of the world, forget the thoughts circling like vultures in his head, the gut-wrenching uncertainty. His hands are shaking, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He pulls away.  
Carolyn looks like Brendon somehow, through the make-up. They stare at each other on the cold step, lost, confused. Ryan feels certain Brendon’s about to say something that will have it all make sense. He feels sure Brendon’s about to ask if they want to run away and never return to Patrick Stump’s bright and oppressive front room, nor the shabby warehouse he calls home, nor the distant dark corridors of Harmonious Moon. They can take the Taxi and just disappear together.  
Brendon doesn’t say anything. Then Jon and Spencer appear from round the back of the building, lugging a metal barrel between them. Ryan looks at the ground and wipes his mouth.  
‘Nice going, Carolyn,’ Jon says cheerfully. She shrugs, glancing over her should at him.  
‘What did I do?’  
‘You wore Plankton down quicker than ever before,’ Jon says. ‘I mean it, good work.’  
She shrugs, looking blank. ‘Thank you.’  
‘Alright, well it’s time to go,’ Spencer says. ‘Come help us with this, Brendon.’  
Ryan feels strangely relieved when they’re climbing back into the Taxi.  
They don’t talk much during the drive. Carolyn shakes her hair out and reverts back to Brendon, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, shaking off everything that makes him her. Spencer asks Jon what he and Loretta were talking about and Jon shrugs.  
‘Nothing in particular. I was quite distracted; I think she picked up on it.’  
Spencer just nods. They stay silent the rest of the way. Ryan spends the entire journey on the edge of his seat, uneasy and washed out. They pull up in front of the now familiar building, what he’s starting to realise might be ‘home’.  
‘Did you eat anything, Ryan?’ Jon asks as they traipse towards the door, momentarily searching for the misplaced lantern. Ryan shrugs, thinking about Loretta’s delicate hands, pearly nails, picking out nibbles and sharing them with him, bite for bite.  
‘A little bit,’ Ryan supplies. He shudders involuntarily. ‘I wasn’t really hungry.’  
They gather their own meaning from his words, and decide he should eat something more substantial when they get inside. Jon goes searching through their supplies, looking for food despite the fact Ryan said he didn’t want any. Spencer sets about relighting the fire, and Brendon sits opposite Ryan and frowns, deep in thought. He sits in silence for a moment or two, and then asks them a question.  
‘Have I lost my charm or something?’  
They all exchange a few puzzled looks.  
‘What does that mean?’  
‘Patrick doesn’t like me at all anymore,’ Brendon says. He sighs slightly. ‘Or he doesn’t like Carolyn anymore. What’s changed since last time?’  
‘I thought you hated Patrick,’ Ryan points out, unable to help himself. Brendon gives him a dark look.  
‘Eat your food, Puppet Boy, no one asked your opinion.’  
Jon laughs, still in a good mood after the success of their evening. He finds some stale bread, and offers it to Ryan, who takes it without question.  
‘Maybe Plankton can tell your heart’s not in it,’ Jon says to Brendon.  
‘My heart is in it!’ Brendon protests. ‘Or it was as much as it ever is. I think he only gave in to get rid of me.’  
‘Oh, are you feeling rejected?’ Spencer says, rolling his eyes. ‘What does it matter, we got what we wanted.’  
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Brendon says. He glances sideways at Ryan, who obediently nibbles the crust of the bread. It’s plain, pale, tasteless, close to rock hard, but he doesn’t complain. He hadn’t thought about it, but now he realises this is as close to happy as he could be in the moment. Put in contrast with Plankton’s library, the quiet, cold, even the damp of the old roof above them is a relief. Up until now he had always wanted to be anywhere else, so to realise he’d rather be here than there is new. He chews absent-mindedly and smiles.  
‘What are you smiling at?’ Brendon asks, tilting his head. Ryan shakes his head.  
‘Nothing.’  
His friends talk lightly of the evening, complimenting the food, insulting Patrick. They discuss their newly acquired fuel, and how best to use it. They talk briefly of Loretta, and Ryan starts to feel uneasy again. He doesn’t know why, but he feels almost guilty. It doesn’t make sense. He ducks his head, blocking them out as best as he can. The bread remains whole in his hand. The others eventually turn their attention back to him; asking him why he’s not eating. He shrugs uncertainly.  
‘I am. I’m just slow.’  
‘It’s probably stale,’ Spencer remarks. Ryan doesn’t correct him. Brendon laughs.  
‘Even our food’s too tough for him,’ he says. His eyes go Ryan, adopting the sweetly patronizing tone he’s grown so used to. ‘Do you want me to chew it up for you?’  
Ryan blinks, thinks about it and then shakes his head. Brendon decides this means he wants persuaded into it, so he gets up, joins Ryan on his side of the fire. Spencer and Jon subside into an earnest, hushed exchange, something about the Taxi, he thinks, general plans for the future. Ryan is left thinking about the evening, Brendon feeding him chewed up bread in the flickering light.  
‘Are you alright?’ Brendon asks, when he seems sure Jon and Spencer aren’t listening.  
‘Yes,’ Ryan says, and he means it as much as he can. He looks at Brendon, their faces very close, and thinks about kissing him again. He doesn’t. He isn’t sure if he wants to; isn’t sure exactly what he feels. Brendon smiles and gently bumps his forehead against Ryan’s, and doesn’t say anything more. Ryan feels immensely comforted by the gesture, long after Brendon moves away and joins Jon and Spencer’s conversation.  
Their words cancel each other out for a bit, before wavering and falling. Now and then, they slip into contemplative silence, and Ryan feels his eyes closing of their own accord. He falls asleep where he is, half listening to the remaining three-way conversation. Maybe he never went to sleep, maybe he’s dreaming. But something they say rouses him.  
‘I suppose we’ll have to fill in the others tomorrow,’ Jon remarks, as Ryan hovers on the brink of sleep. He opens his eyes, thinking this is something he should know.  
‘Who are the others?’  
All three of them sigh and skirt round the subject. ‘It doesn’t matter, Ryan. Go to sleep.’


	10. The Others

Pete Wentz stands barring the doorway, arms folded confidently across his chest. He nods nonchalantly at Spencer and Jon, grins at Brendon, and then turns his attention back to Ryan, looking him up and down with a disdainful eye. He’s stocky and solid with straight dark hair; an impenetrable wall, somehow so much bigger, stronger, more real than Ryan is. It’s a clear message, and with one look, Ryan knows he’s definitely not allowed in. He glances over his shoulder, wondering if he should just go straight back to the Taxi, maybe walk home. This is pointless.  
‘Who’s this then?’ Peter enquires, smirking slightly. Jon had given Ryan a warning just before they left.  
‘Pete might have a problem with letting you in,’ they had said. ‘Pete Wentz, you might know him.’  
Ryan had shaken his head, struck only be the fact that this ‘Pete’ Wentz had the same name birth as the infamous Disaloneous Scream. This made Ryan nervous before even meeting him.  
‘You should be scared,’ Jon had said. ‘He calls himself Peter after Disaloneous Scream. He said he thought the original Peter had the right idea. But he’s mostly big talk. Just be careful.’  
They had left, Ryan feeling more nervous than ever. But now he’s here, he feels only defeat.  
‘This is Ryan,’ Spencer tells Pete, because it doesn’t look like anyone else will. Jon doesn’t offer any sort of protest on Ryan’s behalf. He stands submissively, biting his lip. Brendon is the only one who seems perfectly at ease, and he backs Spencer up by blinking beseechingly.  
Pete smiles trivially at them and then looks Ryan in the eye. ‘Cat got your tongue?’  
‘I just don’t have much to say,’ Ryan says emotionlessly. He’s not afraid, he’s just tired, and the last thing he wants to do is get into a fight. If he isn’t allowed in, then he’ll leave. He doesn’t want to argue. Jon had briefly explained that there were others who shared his feelings about Harmonious Moon, and they would need to talk over the plan with them. So that’s where they were, in some dingy back alley, outside an old worn building, waiting to see what they thought about Ryan. Face to face with Pete Wentz, Ryan doesn’t really know what he’s doing here. If he isn’t acceptable, then so be it. It wouldn’t surprise him.  
‘Well, you’re going to have to say something to convince me to let you in,’ Pete replies, like it’s his only option. It’s just a game to him, Ryan thinks, but he doesn’t know the rules and he isn’t prepared to learn them. He shrugs.  
‘What if I can’t convince you? Do I have to wait out here on the street?’ he asks.  
‘Maybe,’ Pete replies, tilting his head smugly. He has a tanned skin and dark eyes, boring into Ryan’s soul. He’s instantly dislikeable; patronizing and sarcastic, and to be honest, Ryan is getting sick of sarcasm. Perhaps he doesn’t really want in at all.  
‘Just let us in, Pete,’ Jon says impatiently. ‘Leave Ryan out of it, he’s not going to do any harm, alright?’  
Pete nods, as is he’s really taking Jon’s words into serious consideration. ‘Alright, and what do the rest of you say to that?’  
Spencer shrugs. ‘What Jon said.’  
Pete raises an eyebrow. ‘Well, I must say none of you are being very convincing. I don’t think you really want it that much.’ He glances at Brendon. ‘What do you think, Carolyn?’  
The name Carolyn usually makes Brendon twitch uncomfortably, sigh, bite his lip in a regretful way, or at least look at the floor. To Pete, he smiles benignly, keeping eye contact.  
‘That’s not my name.’  
‘But it suits you, doesn’t it?’ Pete contradicts, lightly flicking the side of Brendon’s face with his finger. Ryan is pretty sure he would have hit him, but Brendon doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t seem to mind being talked down to.  
‘You and I both know any one of us could beat Ryan with our hands tied behind our backs,’ Brendon says calmly. He shrugs. ‘If he tries anything, you have permission to kill him.’  
‘Harsh,’ Pete tuts; obviously amused by the statement. ‘How does it feel to be so belittled, Ryan?’  
Ryan doesn’t sigh, though he wants to. He keeps his tone indifferent. ‘It feels normal,’ he says. ‘The way it always feels.’  
He was right in thinking his general pathetic nature would make Pete laugh. He might just be in luck then. Pete’s eyes flicker back to Brendon.  
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he says, and then steps back to let them through. Spencer smiles blandly, Jon sighs in mock relief and Brendon sticks his tongue out, still grinning. Pete returns the face, suddenly seeming almost friendly, but then he sticks his foot out and catches Ryan mid step, making him stumble. He doesn’t lose his balance completely, but it’s enough to cement the disliking towards each other for good. If it stays this hard to hold his temper, then he’s most certainly going to die.  
Inside the building is relatively similar to where Jon, Spencer and Brendon live, and even though it’s actually homelier inside, Ryan feels out of place. He doesn’t want to be here anymore than Pete wants him.  
‘Why do you let him talk to you like that?’ Ryan mutters to Brendon, as they enter the shabby corridor ahead. Brendon smiles.  
‘Why do you care?’  
Ryan isn’t sure. He’s taken back to Harmonious Moon again, their childhood; watching the nurses pay attention to the other children, comforting them like they would comfort Ryan, as if everyone was the same. As if he was just like everyone else to them. He liked being the favourite. That’s why it stung so much way back when, when he realised he was no longer Brendon’s favourite. Brendon had left when Jon and Spencer had.  
There are four others waiting for them inside. One is a girl, as tall as any boy; her stare suspicious and unfriendly. A second girl stands at her side, hiding behind her hair. They’re both dressed in shapeless boy’s clothing, dark and oversized. The third is a boy; his stance his confident, arms folded. A quizzical frown distorts his thin features. The fourth stands about as high as Jon, with tangled hair and infinitely dark eyes, staring past Ryan at something none of them can see. He’s chewing absent-mindedly on one thumb, shifting rhythmically from foot to foot.  
They’re all disappointingly ordinary, but then what was Ryan really expecting.  
‘This is Ryan everyone,’ Pete announces, rolling his tongue mockingly around the name. He flings an arm out theatrically, gesturing to each of his companions in turn. ‘Ryan, this is Kitty, Emily, Philip and Knuckles.’  
Kitty doesn’t even catch Ryan’s eye; instead looking straight past him to frown at Jon.  
‘How long have you had him for?’ she asks accusingly. Ryan grits his teeth and resists opening his mouth. It’s as if he isn’t even here. Jon tiredly rubs his forehead, shrugging.  
‘A couple of days?’ he says. Kitty shakes her head in obvious disgust.  
‘You went ahead without us? Why am I not surprised? We haven’t seen you in over a week!’  
Pete and Philip stand back, happy to let Kitty do all the talking for them. Emily stares at the floor, hair obscuring her face like a curtain. Knuckles doesn’t respond to the growing argument, otherwise absorbed. Brendon and Spencer now take a step away from Jon, looking bemused.  
‘You told us they didn’t want to help rescue Ryan!’ Spencer says, almost hurt. Brendon folds his arms, a look of irritation on his face. Ryan must be the only one who is still on Jon’s side.  
Jon himself rolls his eyes. ‘We didn’t need everyone. I was trying to simplify things.’  
‘And lying to us all in the process?’ Kitty says. She shakes her head mockingly. ‘Well this is a bad situation to be in, Jon. You better have a pretty good excuse to talk your way out of this one.’  
Brendon and Spencer stay silent, too betrayed to start defending him now. Jon laughs at them all incredulously.  
‘I don’t have to explain myself! I made a decision for the good of the team, one which paid off. There was no point in us all going, I told you already. I saved us all a lot of time and effort arguing it out.’  
‘And how are we supposed to trust you after this?’ Kitty demands. ‘It’s one thing after another, Jon! You go on about how you need us to stick together, but then go and do something like this! It’s downright deceitful.’  
Jon opens his mouth, doubtless to contradict her again, mock her concerns. It will only fuel their anger towards him. Ryan should try and defend him.  
‘Stop it,’ he interrupts, before he can think of something to say. ‘It’s pointless – ‘  
‘Oh, shut up, Ryan!’ Kitty snaps. He blinks taken aback by her malicious tone. She’s a complete stranger. They don’t know a thing about each other. How can she hate him so much? None of his real friends go to his defence, so he stares resentfully at his feet instead, fists clenched in frustration.  
‘We’ll have to talk about it,’ Philip says firmly. ‘Without Ryan. Knuckles can keep an eye on him.’ He gestures back towards the door with one hand and Knuckles himself jerkily starts into motion.  
‘See what you’ve done?’ Spencer mutters in Jon’s direction. Jon sighs irritably, but nods at Ryan to follow.  
‘Go on, wait outside. We’ll only be a minute.’  
‘Oh, we’ll be as long as it takes, Jon. Don’t try and act like this doesn’t matter,’ Kitty says stubbornly. ‘It’s all fine and dandy bossing us about all the time, but you can’t lie to us. You should still be grateful Pete even let you in.’  
Ryan doesn’t witness Jon’s reply, because he’s already been led back out into the dully lit hallway. Knuckles stands by the coat rack and continues to chew at his fingers, eyes fixed steadily on the door. The conversation from within is just a hum of different irritated voices, too difficult to make out. Ryan shifts from foot to foot, eyeing his companion with unease.  
‘What are they saying?’ he asks; in case this strange boy can shed some light on the situation.  
‘Jon told us about you,’ Knuckles says, in a half mumble, because his mouth is rather full. ‘He said if we didn’t have you the plan would fall apart.’  
‘And?’ Ryan prompts. Knuckles blinks; still staring at the door.  
‘He lied to us. We were going to get you together. We don’t even know if we can trust you.’  
Ryan shakes his head. ‘I wouldn’t have gone if you were all there,’ he says, warping the truth slightly for Jon’s benefit. They don’t need to know what really happened. ‘I don’t know you.’  
Knuckles slowly turns his head, his bottomless dark eyes staring and intense. ‘I know _you_.’  
Ryan resists the urge to take a step back, feeling unnerved. ‘What?’  
Knuckles loses interest again, eyes back on the door. ‘We went to the same orphanage.’  
‘You were at Harmonious Moon?’  
‘Yeah.’  
Ryan shakes his head. ‘I don’t remember you.’  
‘No, you didn’t know us,’ Knuckles says. ‘But we knew you. You were their favourite. Everyone knew you, Ryan.’  
Ryan smiles, bemused. ‘No. No, I would recognize you.’  
‘But you never talked to us,’ Knuckles says, monotone and flat. ‘Pete says he never liked you.’  
‘Pete,’ Ryan scoffs. He sighs and looks at the door again ‘Well, the feeling is mutual…’  
‘What did you say?’ asks Knuckles, and his hand drops uncertainly out of his mouth. Ryan stares at him for a moment and then shrugs. He thinks about the way Pete talked to Brendon, and he suddenly doesn’t mind what Knuckles thinks of him.  
‘I said I don’t like Pete either,’ he replies. ‘In fact I don’t think I like any of you. You’re all patronizing and hostile.’  
Knuckles frowns and clenches his fists. ‘What?’  
Ryan sighs irritably, tired of their defensiveness. ‘Do you want me to repeat it for you?’  
Knuckles looks him up and down, perhaps trying to work out if he’s serious or not.  
‘Be careful,’ he says after a moment, voice suddenly flat again. ‘It’ll end worse for you.’  
For the first time in years Ryan doesn’t feel scared by the threat. He’s sick of the way they expect him to always follow, to shut up, to back down. It’s what the staff always did. Jon, Spencer and Brendon even do it to him. What makes it worse now is that to him these people are all complete strangers, yet they instantly start treating him like a child. He tries to think about what Jon said, about how Harmonious Moon had broken him, how he’d lost his persistence. Perhaps he should stop backing down so often. So he does what his friends would want. It’s a mistake, but he does it anyway.  
He shakes his head at Knuckles, and laughs.  
‘I’m not afraid of you.’  
Knuckles moves with sudden and alarming speed. Ryan automatically steps sideways, expecting something simple, like a slap, or a kick. Something he could dodge from. He’s not so lucky. Knuckles raises his arm, a sudden forceful push sideways, and he drives Ryan’s head against the wall.  
‘Don’t laugh at me,’ he hisses, and then turns away, facing the door again. Ryan staggers slightly, reeling in shock at the almost unprovoked attack. He blinks, steadying himself. Terrified, but also incredulous, he dares laugh again, determined not to give up.  
‘Are you mad?’  
Knuckles pushes him so hard he stumbles back against the wall again. Instinctively, Ryan gives in to it. Fighting back doesn’t come naturally anymore, and even when he and Jon used to, he always lost. He should let it go, it’s stupid, but there’s a part of that thinks this is the way to impress them. This is the way to earn their respect. So he doesn’t give up.  
Knuckles is only a step away, so with trembling hands Ryan pushes him back, uncertain but determined. It’s a feeble gesture compared to the force used by his adversary.  
‘Don’t do that again,’ he says forcefully even so, giving the impression that he isn’t scared. Knuckles is like a brick wall, he doesn’t give, doesn’t break. He stays anchored and unforgiving. Ryan has always been useless at this. He thinks fleetingly about Jon, and how, as Knuckles said, it would always end worse for him. The one thing in his favour back then was that Jon didn’t ever want to hurt him that much.  
Having now been given an incentive to pursue, Knuckles makes a sudden dart forward, hooking his foot round the back of Ryan’s ankle, pushing him down. Ryan is tall, but by no means strong, and the slightest thing can unbalance him. He falls instantly.  
Part of the problem, he thinks, is his continuous, erratic thought process, and how he should be thinking about how to dodge, when to fight back. Instead his mind his racing at a hundred miles an hour, going through all the ins and outs, and how he can morally justify himself for purposefully hurting someone, just because he’s angry and they’re hurting him. He thinks a lot of Jon, and his childhood and how he could have ended up if he had gone with them that night, and what was really the right decision. Who decides what is right and wrong anyway, he thinks. Perhaps he should beg for mercy.  
‘Don’t get up,’ Knuckles warns, digging a foot into Ryan’s stomach. ‘Stay there or you’ll be sorry.’  
Ryan doesn’t reply immediately, trying to think of a way he can still win this. Standing, he’ll only fall, but perhaps he would have an advantage if they were both on his level. He waits until Knuckles has turned away, and then he grabs hold of his ankle with both hands, taking him by surprise. He topples over too. Even at ground level, Knuckles is stronger but on a rush of adrenalin, Ryan almost matches him. It doesn’t mean he isn’t relieved when the others finally drag them apart.  
Knuckles is pulled up first, still incensed, but not about to protest. He glares at Ryan.  
‘I told you I’d make you sorry,’ he says, darkly triumphant.  
Brendon and Spencer offer surprised but gentle hands, and Ryan staggers back onto his feet again. He shakes his head, breathless and aching. He’s never been sorrier in his life, but he manages to stick his chin up resolutely.  
‘What makes you think I’m sorry?’  
His friends don’t seem to appreciate his stubbornness, and they promptly drag him outside. Jon starts up the minute they get back on the street.  
‘What in gods name were you trying to achieve? How are we supposed to argue your case now? You’re lucky they didn’t keep Brendon to his word and kill you!’  
Ryan is too tired to argue. Every step is more painful than the last one, every word makes his head swim, and his vision sway alarmingly. But this only fuels his irritation, makes him more determined to argue.  
‘It wasn’t my fault,’ he says obstinately.  
‘So whose fault was it then?’ Jon demands, all the angrier. He shakes his head in frustration. ‘Ryan, you don’t pick a fight with Knuckles. You just don’t. He’s completely mad, but so long as you don’t provoke him he won’t touch you. What did you do?’  
Ryan shrugs brokenly, looking at his feet. ‘I can’t remember,’ he says truthfully. ‘You should have warned me.’  
Jon seems lost for words, too enraged by Ryan’s ever calm tone. He shakes his head again, eventually sighing and pushing Ryan in the chosen direction. ‘Get in the car.’  
‘It’s a Taxi!’ Ryan snaps, pushing straight back. He so tired of being told what to do. The other three all blink at him, startled. He gives them a dark look and flings the door to the cab open.  
Spencer steps past him and slides slowly into the drives seat, before Jon and Brendon start into action as well. Ryan slams the door and then sits, hunched over, wrapping his arms round himself, as if he can somehow hold himself together. His head is aches and he can feel a sharp stabbing pain in his ribs at every time he moves, but he decides he doesn’t care anymore. It’s only a feeling, it won’t kill him. His skin feels like a bruised apple and though he grits his teeth hard, he can’t stop himself trembling. But at least he had tried. Perhaps he isn’t so sorry after all.  
Brendon his watching him; biting his lip as if he wants to say something. It takes a moment.  
‘You know, I’m impressed,’ he remarks, and for once he sounds genuine, but Ryan automatically flinches away when Brendon pats his arm. It’s a tender spot.  
‘Sorry,’ Brendon offers, less genuinely. He shakes his head. ‘That’ll hurt tomorrow.’  
Ryan sighs. ‘Thanks for the observation, it hurts now.’  
‘Right, you’re not in the mood, I understand,’ Brendon says, unfazed. He turns back to the window and leaves Ryan alone.  
Ryan still tells himself he doesn’t care. He sits, clutching his sides and rocking ever so slightly back and forth. He decides feelings of any kind are what make him so pathetic, and he will now live his life numb and devoid of emotion. Then no one will be able to hurt him, deceive him, belittle him. The unpredictable jolting of the Taxi will stop making his stomach churn, and he will no longer care how they all treat him. He will ignore Brendon; he will ignore Jon. He will ignore Spencer. They don’t understand. Harmonious Moon never really understood him either. He won’t think about them anymore.  
It’s just that, if he had run away that night he wouldn’t be in this situation. He wouldn’t be the way he was. The fight wouldn’t have started because he wouldn’t have needed rescued, they would have always trusted him. It’s his fault. What if the others never trust him, what if they stop trusting his friends because of it? He’s messed up their plan for them.  
‘I’m sorry,’ he says without thinking. Brendon glances round, a questioning smile.  
‘For what?’  
Ryan shrugs. ‘I should have thought about it. I shouldn’t have argued. It was stupid.’  
Brendon blinks thoughtfully. ‘Everyone else argues. Ignore Jon, he’s just being overly dramatic.’  
Ryan is sure Jon can hear them, but he doesn’t say anything to contradict Brendon. The silence is far from reassuring. Ryan sighs, and slips back into his own head.  
*  
The following morning, Jon is up and prepared with a serious agenda.  
‘We’re going to go back to see the others,’ he announces, ignoring Spencer and Brendon’s doubtful protests. ‘And Ryan, you’re going to apologize and make peace with them.’  
Ryan looks at Jon’s earnest expression, and he thinks that behind the authoritative nature of the statement, he’s pleading with him. Ryan shakes his head. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore.  
‘No, I won’t do it. I have nothing to be sorry for.’  
Jon glares at him. ‘I’m not giving you a choice. You do as I say, or I’ll make you.’  
Ryan sometimes wonders why Jon even asks him in the first place. It’s a pointless act, lulling him into a false state of security. He thought that after a while he would be able to say he didn’t want to do something, and then he wouldn’t have to do it, like a normal person. Apparently not. He smiles blandly, shrugging his shoulders.  
‘I better do it then.’  
‘Good,’ Jon says. He turns to the other two. ‘I want you both to be on your best behaviour. Brendon, suck up to Pete even more than you already do. I want to get back on their good side.’  
Spencer nods absent-mindedly, and Brendon folds his arms. ‘I assume this goes without saying, but you will be doing all this as well, won’t you Jon?’ he says. ‘After all, you’re the one they’re unhappiest with.’  
Ryan can tell he’s teasing, putting Jon in his place. Jon’s smile is strained.  
‘Of course,’ he says begrudgingly. Spencer snorts.  
‘You’re terrible, making us pander for you.’  
‘Of course,’ Jon repeats, with less reluctance. ‘Now let’s go.’  
*  
Pete Wentz’s greeting is less obnoxious that morning. He smirks in a rather self-satisfied manner, saying something about being surprised to see their sorry faces returning after yesterday. He flicks a strand of Brendon’s hair, nods dismissively at Spencer, and comments lightly on Jon stabbing them in the back again, but then steps back to let them through. Ryan is ignored. He isn’t entirely sure if this is an improvement or not. Perhaps it’s a bad sign.  
The rest of them don’t seem surprised by the visit. Kitty stands up to greet them, eyebrows raised.  
‘Well, well, well,’ she says, and Ryan prepares himself to be berated. Her eyes go to Jon instead. ‘Ready to apologize?’  
‘I apologized yesterday,’ Jon says stubbornly, ‘on numerous occasions.’  
‘It never hurts to hear it again,’ Philip interjects. He walks over to stand at Kitty’s side. He smiles brightly. ‘Ryan?’  
Ryan blinks, his own name taking him by surprise. He grits his teeth, prepared for a barrage of sarcasm. He won’t lose his temper this time, but he doesn’t want to apologize. He doesn’t need to.  
‘Just wanted to welcome you to the real world,’ Philip says, a slightly smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps he’s serious, perhaps he’s mocking. It’s hard to tell. ‘Sorry you had to endure such a beating yesterday, our fault for sending you out without warning. Knuckles has something to say.’  
Knuckles has been standing absently in the corner, and he shakes his head when Philip prompts him, staring into space. ‘I’m not sorry,’ he says. Philip shrugs.  
‘Well, there you go. You can’t have everything.’  
‘I’m not sorry either,’ Ryan says quickly, before they can go on. He can feel Jon glaring at him, but he decides he doesn’t care. He doesn’t have to tread so carefully; he has nothing to lose. Kitty glances at Philip, amused almost.  
‘Well, that’s all that sorted then,’ she says lightly, turning back to Jon. ‘Emily, take Ryan outside. There are still a few things we need to say to Jon, while he’s here.’  
Ryan does as he’s told without question, bemused by the exchange, surprised. Why they aren’t furious with him, he doesn’t know. At the back of his mind he always thought it was better to act defiant than defeated, simply because that’s the kind of people they seem to be. He isn’t entirely sure if it’s worked or not.  
Emily is as silent as Knuckles at first. Ryan doesn’t risk starting a conversation, just in case it ends the same way, but eventually she opens her mouth.  
‘They were impressed you know,’ she says. He catches her eye.  
‘With what?’  
‘With the way you acted yesterday,’ she continues. ‘We weren’t expecting it. It was surprising.’  
Ryan nods in agreement, feeling a flicker of triumph ignite in him. He looks back at the door again. ‘It surprised me as well…’  
Jon is livid on the drive home. Ryan isn’t entirely sure why. As far as he can tell, they’re on the same side again. The plan will go ahead. Perhaps it will always be like this. With Jon it seems to be a semi-permanent state.  
‘You picked a fight with Knuckles five minutes after arriving, and you’re still more in their favour than me! Unbelievable!’ he fumes, but Spencer and Brendon just laugh at him. Ryan laughs too, surprised he feels this positive. His head feels unusually clear of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He can finally see things in focus.  
He thinks about Patrick briefly, wondering if they are perhaps more similar than he first thought. Perhaps he will be free of Harmonious Moon one day. Whether this good feeling will last, he doesn’t know. His mood is always unpredictable.


	11. Return to Harmonious Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just short chapter right now, I'm still editing the final chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading this, it really means the world. And I hope you've all enjoyed it so far :)

It’s the kind of act that can’t be committed without consequences. It’s stupid, but this thought only comes to Ryan a week later when his bruises are fading and after many hateful days spent with Kitty, Emily, Philip, Pete and Knuckles, he can only just bear to be squashed up with them in the back seat of the Taxi. Knuckles is at one end, Ryan at the other, on the floor at Philip’s feet. Emily is on Kitty’s knee; Brendon is on Pete’s. Ryan looks at his hands and tries to ignore them all. He’s grown to bear Kitty, bear Philip. Knuckles doesn’t ever speak to him, and he does the same. Emily is nice, but almost entirely silent in the company of the group, so Ryan doesn’t know her that well. Pete is insufferable. But so long as they don’t speak to each other, Ryan can survive.  
It’s odd. No one has spoken a word the entire journey. Tonight is the night. Ryan doesn’t want to break the peaceful silence, but he has a question.  
‘What’s going to happen to all the children?’ he asks, more tentative to their reaction than the actual nature of the sentence. ‘Are we just going to go ahead with the plan and leave it to them to survive?’  
‘Something about your tone tells me that’s not what you want to happen,’ Jon replies calmly. ‘And no, I’m not a monster. We’ll get them out first.’  
‘And where are they going to go then?’  
‘Oh would you quit asking questions, puppet boy?’ Kitty snaps. It’s a nickname Ryan has grown extremely tired of over the past seven days.   
‘Sounds like you haven’t really thought it through properly…’ he mutters, even though he knows what’s coming.  
‘Do you think we’re insane?’ she retorts, and Philip has to grab her hand to stop her hitting him. Over the course of time his loyalties switch by the day. Sometimes he’ll defend Ryan, sometimes he won’t.  
‘Stop it! Please, let’s not argue tonight. Let’s keep it together for once.’  
‘She’s got a point…’ Pete teases, insufferably smug. ‘He’s just trying to find fault with our plan.’  
‘And you’re just trying to make me sound stupid, when I’m actually asking a valid question!’  
Brendon finally interjects. He slides off Pete’s lap, switching places with Philip with some difficulty, so he’s blocking Ryan from their company. With some hurt mutters, and irritated glances everyone slips back into silence. Maybe the worst part of the past week has been the way Brendon’s been acting. Ryan wouldn’t have cared so much if Brendon was ignoring him because he was so focused on the task ahead, but he’s been acting stupider and more frivolous than ever; caught up in a constant back and forth with Pete. The two of them make each other laugh a lot.  
Ryan wishes he’d never kissed Brendon outside Patrick’s house. He has a strong feeling he took things too far. He thought it had been okay after they got back to the house, and Brendon had bumped their foreheads together in the firelight. Ryan thought he was trying to be discrete in the company of Jon and Spencer, not that discretion is Brendon’s strong point. But maybe that was his way of saying, ‘This is all you are to me.’  
That’s fine with Ryan. He now suspected he’d just been confused by the way Brendon was dressed; Carolyn mixed with thoughts of Melissa. And he’d always been fond of Melissa, hadn’t he? He’ll see her again tonight. Maybe he’s looking forward to it.  
‘If you lot mess this up, I swear to god…’ Jon says, and gets a dour silence in return. ‘Contrary to what you might believe, Ryan, there are a lot less children at Harmonious Moon these days. The doctors put all their attention into people like you, giving them little time to do their real job. The few children that are left will stay with Patrick and Loretta; you’ve seen the size of their house. Whether Plankton wants them there or not, they will be in relatively good hands.’  
‘It still doesn’t seem like a particularly sound idea,’ Ryan points out, feeling martyred. Spencer sighs.  
‘Sometimes you have to make hard choice for the greater good. Someone out there will be grateful, even if it seems bad at first.’  
‘Exactly,’ Jon agrees. Ryan just sighs, leaning back against Brendon’s legs, resisting the urge to throw up. Brendon ruffles his hair, and he feels worse than ever.  
*  
It was with a sinking heart and a great feeling of trepidation that Ryan approached the front door of the orphanage. Jon was confident; he was always overconfident in himself – but there was a large part of Ryan that still saw the plan as flawed. Too many things were relying on ‘if’ instead of when. He had been lying to them when he had smiled and reassured at the gates.   
Jon had gone over the sketchy instructions with him again:  
‘Ryan, you get in there and distract them; get as many of them in one room as possible. My hope is that their precautionary fear will work against them this time. They’ll want to keep as many eyes on you as possible. Keep them talking, and don’t be distracted. Can you do that?’  
That was the part where Ryan had smiled and reassured. Truth be told, he had no idea what to expect from them, or himself.   
There is a clear night sky; stars out, moon almost full, waiting for someone to take advantage of them. Ryan walks through the Harmonious Moon grounds, staring upwards, the light making his eyes ache. This time he is walking towards the house, the gate far behind him, closed off, still cast in shadow.   
Despite the way things have turned out, he’s still happier to be walking forward than he is back. A warm light can be seen in one of the windows. It makes Ryan smile before he really thinks about who might have lit the candle. Despite it all, he’s happy to be back, happy to be home. Safe, at Harmonious Moon. Well, that’s what he thinks. Maybe it’s just the memories the place brings back, the good ones. Maybe he’s just sugar coating it in his mind. He feels like he’s betraying his friends just by thinking the way he is, but then, didn’t they betray him first? They left him all those years ago. Harmonious Moon remained there.  
Even being in the building’s shadow has a strange effect on him; it seems to draw him nearer, numbing his mind, changing him. He doesn’t know if the sensation is closer to drowning or falling asleep.  
Ryan has slowed considerably by the time he reaches the front door. His hand automatically goes for the handle, but it’s too dark to find. Moonlight reflects faintly against the knocker. It will be locked anyway, he supposes. So he knocks.  
The sound of footsteps can be heard the other side. Ryan considers running. A bolt slides across, stiff and painfully slow. Reginald Plough the Doorman pulls the heavy door open a crack, one eye peering out. It widens instinctively. Ryan considers running again.  
‘Well, well,’ Reginald says. He gives the door a final tug, swinging it slowly open to reveal himself fully. ‘Fancy it being you, Ryan.’  
Ryan finds himself blinking, trying to pretend he’s close to tears. That’s what the old Ryan would be in this situation. He’s pathetic, really he is. It’s such a fault in his personality.   
‘I’m home,’ he says, nerves coming through in his voice. Hopefully that simply makes the act more authentic. He’s always been terrible at lying.   
‘That you are…’ Reginald mutters. He steps slowly to the side to let Ryan through. This is going well, Ryan thinks. He has played this moment over countless times in his head, and not one of them was quite like this. Sometimes Reginald fearfully slammed the door the moment he saw who stood on the doorstep; sometimes no one answered the door at all. The dark hallway has a familiar smell, bringing back memories of childhood and other such times. Ryan was at least expecting more suspicion than this.  
He’s just thinking about Jon, and how Jon will be pleased for once because Ryan is doing exactly what he wants and so far things aren’t going wrong, though of course, things have hardly started. The real mistake Ryan made was to stop paying attention, because as soon as he’s turned his back there’s a swift shuffling of feet, and when he turns round, Reginald the Doorman has something heavy clutched in both hands. _What is it?_ Ryan wonders, when he really should be wondering what the man is about to do with it. Then perhaps, Ryan could have ducked in time. The blunt instrument catches him round the side of his head, and in the last few seconds of consciousness he thinks: _Jon will kill me._  
Ryan hates falling. He’s has no grace or coordination, and when he falls he falls hard. Fortunately for him he’s not conscious long enough to meet the floor today. So he falls hard, but at least he falls unaware. Pain is so much more acceptable when he’s not awake to feel it.  
Hands find his ankles, and the dark dream of Harmonious Moon engulfs him again.


	12. Charlotte's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again everyone for reading! I've really enjoyed reading your nice comments, and I hope the ending is satisfactory!

Ryan wakes up in Charlotte’s study. His first thought is a simple, _I’ve only ever been in here once before._ He feels surprised, a little honoured. The room rearranges itself a couple of times before his eyes, and he blinks and shakes his head. His hand tries to reach his head, push his hair out of his face – only something is stopping it. He looks down and realizes that he’s been tied up. So his second thought is simply, _I’ve really messed things up._ He reassesses the situation.  
Charlotte is standing at the window, gaze directed out to the grounds. Nurse Sally and Dr Skinner stand just behind, arms folded. They exchange the occasional glance. Therapist Nancy, and Doorman Reginald sit on assorted chairs around them. All eyes are on the window. The only one looking at Ryan is Melissa, from a chair to the left. She’s sitting up straight, hair tucked behind her ears, dark eyes blinking. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, just a greeting of some sort. No sound comes out, so he smiles wanly instead. She doesn’t smile back. Instead, she turns her head, voice raised.  
‘Ryan’s awake.’  
All heads turn. Ryan tries to avoid their intent and judging gaze, looking down at the floor. At least he’s gotten them all in one place. That’s what Jon wanted, wasn’t it?  
‘Why am I tied up?’ he asks, voice barely coming out as a whisper. Of course he knows the answer to the question already; he’s just trying to give his friends more time. How he’s going to join them, he doesn’t know. He does try the lightest of movements, but how is he supposed to untie himself when he can’t even clench his fist? He feels weak and lifeless all over.  
‘Must admit, we weren’t expecting to see you back, Ryan,’ Sally says. She sounds calm. Ryan blinks.  
‘It’s not as if I left. I was kidnapped,’ he says, eyes flickering from one face to another. They don’t seem to believe him. ‘Please untie me. I won’t do anything I swear. I’m not going to turn out like… like Peter.’  
They all twitch and frown in unison. ‘Who told you that name?’  
He looks down at his limp arms, pinned tightly to his sides. The rope is thick and rough, cutting into him even through the material of his shirt. He wriggles again.   
‘No one. I read it somewhere.’  
Charlotte looks at Dr Skinner. ‘Patrick Stump,’ they say together. Ryan bites his lip. He probably shouldn’t have said anything.  
‘What do you know about Peter, Ryan?’ Sally asks, sharply. Ryan doesn’t know what answer will buy him more time. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, uncertain.   
‘Not… um… not a lot…’  
‘No doubt you’ve read Patrick’s manuscript though,’ Charlotte continues on Sally’s behalf. Ryan nods slowly, and she smiles insincerely. ‘Then I’m sure you understand our concerns.’  
‘But I’m not like that. You _know_ me,’ Ryan says. He wishes for once in his life people would just trust him. He’s so often surrounded by people who tell him what he’s thinking, what he’s going to do, what he’s like, who he is. If only they stopped to listen, they might find out the truth. He looks at the floor again. ‘I don’t blame you for anything.’  
It can’t be said enough that Ryan is bad liar. But he says this now, steps outside of the circle for a moment and hears his own voice. He means it. He really, really means it. Some stubborn part of hates Jon for blaming Harmonious Moon for the way they turned out. He doesn’t seem to understand that this is just who Ryan is. He may seem weak, and he may seem like he’s too trusting, but that’s just what he’s always been, hasn’t it? He can’t remember a life before Harmonious Moon, so what did he really have before this? They’ve affected the way he has grown up, yes, but without them he might never have had the chance to grow up in the first place. Jon never gave them credit for that.  
Ryan wishes he could say all this, but it wouldn’t make a difference. The staff are too scared of past experiences; Jon’s too stubborn to admit what he doesn’t like.  
‘Let me go…’ he sighs, for no other reason than he has nothing else to say. ‘Please?’  
Commotion can be heard out in the corridor, perhaps a floor down. All heads turn again.  
‘Melissa, lock the door,’ Charlotte orders. Melissa does so without question, and Charlotte turns back to Ryan. ‘Your friends are here, Ryan, though I expect you know that.’  
Ryan nods. ‘They forced me into it.’  
‘Such a shame,’ Charlotte says wistfully. ‘Such a shame he turned out like this…’  
She could be talking about anyone. For a brief moment, Ryan wishes he were dead. It would be so much simpler. Then he thinks about the here and now, and how Harmonious Moon could be burning for all he can see, and how it would feel to go like that, and perhaps he doesn’t want to die after all. He must have been unconscious for longer than he thought. He struggles again.   
The problem is, he’s hopelessly outnumbered, tied to a chair, surrounded by people who don’t seem to want to do anything about their imminent death. Perhaps this is simpler for them as well. Or perhaps they just haven’t guessed what Jon’s up to. Ryan’s mouth opens of its own accord, helplessly dutiful words spilling out.  
‘You could still escape. Untie me and we can run before the whole place goes up. Please. Don’t let me die. I don’t want to die.’  
‘We don’t have a choice,’ Charlotte says, sounding final. ‘Unfortunately that means neither do you.’  
Obvious alarm flickers across Dr Skinner’s face. ‘Pardon me for saying, but I don’t want to die either, Charlotte.’  
‘No, me neither,’ Melissa agrees quickly. She and Dr Skinner exchange a fearful glance. Charlotte looks on, emotionless. She opens her mouth, doubtless with more words of ominous finality. Sally interrupts.  
‘Nonsense,’ she says. ‘Mouth shut, Dr Skinner, no one is going to die. Don’t believe a word Ryan says. He’s lying. He wants us to panic. Besides, I highly doubt his three friends can have done much damage in the space of half an hour. Back to your seats, all of you.’  
 _They don’t know about the others…_ Ryan thinks. But they won’t believe him if he tells them. It hurts to see how quickly Sally dismisses him as a liar. This is it. He’s trapped.  
The clock by the door ticks and a heavy curtain of silence falls on the room. The noises outside the door become slowly more frantic, more urgent. Sally takes Reginald and Dr Skinner out to investigate. Nancy sits by the window, motionless at Charlotte’s side. Melissa stands over Ryan. He can feel her eyes on him. He looks at the floor and tries not to mind so much about everything. All the things he never said, or how he’s still not sure what he really wants or what the right thing to do is. It’s not as if he can do much now, stuck in this room, immobile, useless.  
Melissa goes down on her knees by his side. ‘Why did you really come back, Ryan?’ she whispers, suspicious. He takes in her thin features, her thick hair. She’s somehow emptier than he remembered her. She might be prettier than Carolyn, but she’s not as colourful, not as alive.  
‘I told you,’ he says. ‘I was forced into it.’  
‘So you didn’t want to come back?’  
‘All I want to do is get out of here alive.’  
She unexpectedly takes his hand, and he flinches.   
‘Me too,’ she says. At that moment Sally and Reginald burst back through the study door. They seem uncharacteristically panicked. Ryan smiles just the tiniest bit.  
‘Good lord…’ Reginald breathes. He raises his voice. ‘The whole place is ablaze, Charlotte.’  
‘Dr Skinner’s gone,’ Sally adds. There is nervousness threaded through her voice. ‘He ran. I’m afraid to say I think we should run too.’  
‘You have my permission to leave,’ Charlotte says calmly. ‘But I think it is far simpler if I stay. If you remember the story correctly, Peter only wanted Eliza. Any casualties were only the fools who got in his way. I shall stay here and wait my turn. I think that solves our problem, don’t you?’  
The rest of them seem confused. They glance fearfully at Ryan.  
‘But there doesn’t need to be casualties this time, Charlotte. That’s why we did all of this. Ryan is here, safe. He can’t hurt anyone.’  
‘It’s not Ryan you should be worried about,’ Charlotte says. ‘I have since come to realize we may have misjudged him. Ryan is not Disaloneous Scream tonight. You _should_ be worrying about my son.’  
Ryan doesn’t know; Melissa doesn’t know either. Only Sally, Nancy and Reginald share Charlotte’s meaningful look. They listen, they nod, and then they run. Ryan is left behind, clueless and done for.  
*  
Jon wasn’t an easy child. He was rash and stubborn, quite the opposite of her, but Charlotte was still regretful to admit that she could have tried harder. Charlotte prided herself as being a determined woman, never one to back down. She was bright and successful in her endeavours, succeeding more than she would fail. She had been Eliza’s prodigy, and yet she didn’t have enough willpower to manage her own son. He was her one mistake, her one disappointment.  
Jon had grown up in Harmonious Moon, he knew no other home. For a while Charlotte indulged him with the little Mother-and-Son game of his, after all it did no harm. When she deemed him an appropriate age, she had turned to him and said, without remorse: ‘Jon, from this moment on, I am no longer your mother. You will call me by my first name, and you must learn not to expect any special treatment. From this point you are just another orphan, do you understand?’  
Her five-year-old son had gaped at her. ‘What?’  
‘The children here don’t have any parents at all, Jon. Why should you be any different? Now, don’t get upset. It’s only fair that your treated the same as them. This is your home, you like it here, don’t you?’  
He had glared at her, very expressive as always. ‘But that isn’t fair!’  
‘Life isn’t fair, Jon. The sooner you learn that the better.’  
He had humoured, for a little while anyway. They would have the occasional hushed conversation in the corridor, if he felt he had something particularly revolutionary to say. None of it was very inspiring to Charlotte, and it certainly didn’t change things. The older he got, the angrier he seemed to get about the situation – and there she’d been thinking it would become easier. And then there was Ryan. Ryan, all big eyed and clingy, and she had taken pity on him. Jon despised her for the attention she gave him, the attention they all gave him. He hated the fact Ryan was given special treatment, and not him. Charlotte could see why it upset him, but he didn’t understand. She had been relatively young and naïve at the time – how was she to know Ryan wouldn’t turn out the way she had expected, the way they had all been expecting?  
The difference between Jon and Ryan was that Ryan had stayed. One night Jon had come right up to her study. He had leaned against the door and sighed, and she had shaken her head and refused to make eye contact.  
‘What do you want from me, Jon?’  
‘Do you really not love me?’ he had asked. ‘Not even the littlest bit?’  
Charlotte was too tired to lie. ‘No. I’m sorry.’  
That was the night he ran away. She hadn’t seen him in five years, and now here he was, lost somewhere in the corridors, burning her orphanage. As always, her biggest regret. Now he would be her downfall.  
Down below, shapes gather under the window, too far away to make out, and cast in the shadow of Harmonious Moon itself. Charlotte doesn’t know who has gotten out, and who is still trapped with her and Ryan. She’s afraid too admit she doesn’t care anymore. Things are finally simple, and all she has to do is wait.  
Behind her, Ryan continues to struggle.  
‘Let me go,’ he pleads. She sighs.   
‘Stop it now, Ryan. There’s no use in trying to escape. I’m afraid to say Sally gave you a sedative when you were asleep. Even if I were feeling kind enough to untie you, you wouldn’t get very far. Now just sit still and be quiet.’  
She might as well have stabbed him in the heart. That’s what comes across in his eyes, betrayal and other general, trivial sadness. She feels sorry, but only for a fleeting moment.  
‘I wish I was still a child…’ he sighs, leaning his head back, defeated.  
‘If it makes you feel any better, then I wish you had never been born, Ryan,’ Charlotte tells him. She means it in a nice way, really. The way a mother wishes for her son to be kept from harm. If he weren’t born, he wouldn’t have to die. Sometimes she wishes Ryan were actually her son – then perhaps she wouldn’t have had to doubt him so harshly. ‘Things were so much simpler before you and Peter.’  
Sudden, frantic footsteps can be heard, in the corridor right outside. Closer and closer. There’s a sudden thump as someone throws themselves against the door. The handle rattles as they try to get inside. Charlotte hadn’t locked it after everyone else had fled. The handle is just stiff.  
Jon bursts in, breathless, but almost exactly the same for five years away. He doesn’t even look at her.  
‘Ryan?’  
Ryan’s head lifts slowly, eyes flickering, heavy, unresponsive. ‘Jon?’  
Jon dodges between the swiftly rearranged furniture; what was once uniform, now chaotic and disorganised. Charlotte is trying not to care so much. It’s most likely her last night after all. Her son goes down on his knees at Ryan’s side, undoing the knots that bind him with practised concentration. Charlotte watches the moment between the two of them over her shoulder; the obedient son she wanted, the reckless son she has. They momentarily morph into one person, and she lets her eyes linger briefly, then swivel back to the window.   
‘Come on, get up, get up.’ There is a shuffling of chairs, clumsy footsteps on the bare floor. They are at the door when Jon speaks.  
‘Mother?’  
She looks round again. It isn’t a tender moment between mother and son, finally accepting each other in these last few moments. He only says the forbidden word because he knows it irritates her.  
‘Goodbye, Jon.’  
He glares at her, expressive as always. Propped up at his side, Ryan blinks.  
‘What did you say?’  
‘Tell you some other time,’ Jon says briefly. He smiles, but Charlotte can’t tell if it’s because she’s finally getting her comeuppance for all the supposed harm she caused – or if it’s sad, regretful. She doesn’t watch them long enough to find out. Glazed eyes travel back to the window. She can smell smoke somewhere down the corridor.   
*  
Ryan and Jon stagger out of the front entrance, coughing up smoke. Jon, so considerate on rare occasions – now yanks his arm away, breathing heavy and disjointed. Ryan keeps his footing, forcing himself away across the silvery grass, to a safer distance. The moon and stars now share their task of lighting his way with the just visible flames, flickering behind every window pane. Pete and Kitty’s voices can be heard over the general chaos that comes with burning down an orphanage. The two of them shake their awed friends into order, gathering the even more awed children into one place. They all shuffle and stagger, bumping into each other like frightened cattle.   
Brendon appears at Ryan’s side, breathing hard.   
‘You’re alive,’ he says. Ryan nods slowly, clutching onto Brendon’s arm for support.   
‘Yes…’ he agrees, dazed. ‘I’m alive.’  
‘I was scared for a minute there,’ Brendon says, and he gives Ryan half a smile. Ryan’s taken back to that night he was first kidnapped, tracking silently through the damp grass, the strange girl looking over her shoulder. As if remembering too, Brendon catches Ryan’s eye, and Ryan waits. Brendon doesn’t kiss him, but he doesn’t need to.  
‘It’ll be okay,’ Brendon says, and Ryan doesn’t know if he’s talking about them, or about the orphanage, now fully lit from within, with the eerie orange glow.  
Jon collapses a few paces away from. Spencer is stumbling round in circles with the majority of the group. Ryan and Brendon stand in their own silent bubble, letting the tangled feelings and noise bounce off the transparent walls. It’s too confusing to tell who is who, and if any of the staff escaped with the orphans. Ryan finds that, surprisingly, he isn’t looking for them. He feels like someone has shaken him hard and he just woke up in the real world. It’s a harsh slap of reality, but it’s better than dreaming. Anything is better than dreaming. Ryan never wants to fall asleep again.  
He sits down, crossed legged in the grass, and Brendon sits with him. Moments pass, and Spencer eventually hauls delirious Jon to his feet again. They stumble over, side by side, Jon still babbling like a lunatic.  
‘It’s done, it’s over, it’s all over,’ he repeats again and again, suddenly regaining some of his confidence. His eyes gleam triumphantly. ‘And we did it.’  
‘Well done, you just made twenty-odd children homeless,’ Brendon says. Jon laughs hysterically.  
‘They’ll live to thank me! I’ll be a legend; we’ll all go down in history! This is a moment I’ll remember forever!’  
‘Of course,’ Spencer agrees, sounding dazed. ‘Don’t worry about getting carried away or anything…’  
Jon sits down. Spencer sits down.  
‘That was my home…’ Ryan remarks wistfully. _Strange to watch it burn,_ he thinks. _And yet feel no remorse._  
‘It was _our_ home,’ Jon corrects. ‘And now it’s gone, we can have a new home. A better home, got it? Don’t you start crying about it now – because it’s too late.’  
‘Always one for empathy…’ Spencer mutters. Ryan smiles.  
‘That’s not what I meant. I mean, it’s funny. I keep waiting to start missing it.’  
Brendon finds his hand in the dark. ‘Don’t,’ he says simply. But Ryan doesn’t have to do what they tell him anymore.  
He’s still waiting, but while he does so the memory fades a little more. Sometimes it feels like it was all a dream. And sometimes he wonders, maybe, just maybe, if it really was. A thousand years seem to have flown by since he was tied to a chair in Charlotte’s study, pondering his inevitable death. He only has to blink once to remember that he’s still outside in the cold, as the rose tinted fog lifts from around Harmonious Moon and disappears into the night sky.   
Ryan’s thoughts drift limitlessly, and he wonders if this is perhaps what he’s been waiting for.


End file.
